To Touch the Clouds : The Frontier Series 5

by Peter Watt

  ‘Right now I cannot entertain your thoughts about me nor return to Sydney,’ Fenella said in a whisper, as if thinking out aloud.

  ‘Why?’ Sean asked with a frown. ‘You will be able to clear your name of the charge and be home for the release of your latest film.’

  ‘The film does not matter,’ Fenella replied. ‘But the shame I seem to constantly bring on my father does.’

  ‘I am sure that he is totally convinced of your innocence,’ Sean said. ‘And he must be worried sick about your unheralded exit from Sydney. Already he has cabled to say that he has employed the services of my uncle’s firm to provide for your defence. I can proudly say that they have a reputation second to none for criminal defence matters. We always win, which reminds me that I must leave on the next ship to San Francisco if I am to complete my original duty to the firm.’

  ‘I will miss your company and conversation,’ Fenella said with a sad smile.

  ‘Tonight we shall dine and I will raise a toast to your gleaming future,’ Sean countered with a warm smile.

  Despite his assurances the evening passed with the couple in a sombre mood.

  Sean found himself occupied with legal matters and business the next day meaning he was unable to visit Fenella. He did leave a note at her hotel to arrange a final evening together before they parted company. However, when he returned to his hotel that evening to prepare for his meeting with Fenella at her hotel he was surprised by the appearance of the tough American police detective who had arrested Fenella. The man was waiting in the foyer and from the scowl on his face Sean immediately knew that the American was angry.

  ‘Mr Duffy,’ the detective said, approaching Sean. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know of the whereabouts of that Macintosh dame you got out on bail, would you?’

  Stunned, Sean was at a loss for an answer. What in hell did the detective mean?

  ‘Maybe you can explain this,’ the detective said, thrusting a sheet of paper under the young Australian lawyer’s nose. Sean scanned the few words written in Fenella’s copperplate hand.

  I am sorry, Sean, but I must do what I can to avoid bringing shame on my father’s good name. I pray that you will understand.

  Your grateful friend,

  Fenella Macintosh

  ‘It was left at the counter of Miss Macintosh’s hotel when we went in search of her to find out why she had not reported in,’ the detective said when he was sure that Sean had read the note. ‘Maybe you can tell us what it means.’

  ‘I am as much at a loss to explain what it means as are you,’ Sean spluttered. ‘I have no idea of where Miss Macintosh may be located.’

  The detective stood facing the young man almost nose to nose, trying to intimidate him. Sean did not back down and eventually the American police officer realised that this man would not be easily browbeaten. He was, after all, a goddamned lawyer.

  ‘If you get to hear anything about her whereabouts,’ Devine said, ‘be sure to inform us. You are, after all, an officer of your legal system and duty bound to work within the law. It ain’t wise around these parts to cross me.’

  The detective turned and walked away, leaving Sean mystified. A thousand thoughts swirled through his mind. Had Fenella done something drastic and taken her own life? This was the most disturbing thought. Or had the American authorities underestimated the abilities of the daughter of Colonel Duffy to elude them? He prayed that it was the latter, but knew now that Fenella would not attempt to make contact. Sean uttered an obscenity under his breath. He would have to carefully compose and cable Sydney with the news that Fenella had once again disappeared. He only prayed that she was still alive. After all, there was a rumour that Fenella’s mother had taken her own life so many years earlier.

  Matthew Duffy could not shake the dream. He tossed and turned in his cramped bunk as the Osprey II ploughed through the tropical Solomon Sea. The sky was dark, a storm threatening. Old Wallarie was in his head and Matthew had flashes of an ancient ochre painting of a warrior with raised spear. Wallarie was trying to tell him something and Matthew awoke, bathed in a sheen of sweat. In the dark confines of his tiny cabin he could hear the ship’s metal creaking around him, and the constant thump, thump, of the engines below. Easing himself from the bunk he stood uncertainly as the ship rolled and pitched in the rising seas. He placed his hand against the bulkhead to steady himself and pushed at the cabin door which swung open. Half-dressed in his shorts, Matthew made his way to the deck where he was surprised to see Alex standing at the bow, silhouetted against the night sky.

  ‘You couldn’t sleep either,’ Alex said when Matthew joined him. The wind moaned around them and the freedom of the open deck was a welcome change from the stifling heat in the cabin.

  ‘Bad dreams,’ Matthew muttered. ‘I suppose you are thinking about reaching the plantation in the morning and getting to see the love of your life.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Alex answered. ‘That, and the second stage of our mission. Did you ever experience that kind of fear that causes your stomach to churn?’

  ‘Funny question,’ Matthew answered. ‘Why do you ask?’

  Alex continued to stare at the darkness of the cloud-covered night sky above and dark waters below. ‘I have always envied the fact that you served in South Africa and saw action. I am an officer in my father’s regiment and have seen nothing of war. I suppose I will always wonder how I would perform leading men under fire. Now we have this mission ahead of us and all I feel is fear.’

  ‘I was always scared out of my wits when the Boers were taking pot shots at us at the river,’ Matthew answered. ‘But it was even worse when they rained their artillery down on us. The shells going off all around started to send me mad with terror. I was so frightened I made sure I kept my head down. Every sane man experiences fear but few are prepared to admit the truth of their emotions. Even now I am feeling utter fear for what lays ahead. I think the unknown does that to us.’

  ‘Thank you, Matt,’ Alex said. ‘I thought I was alone.’

  Matthew slapped his cousin on the back. ‘No, old chap, even our New Zealander cousin has admitted the terror he felt out on the veldt when we served in the Transvaal. We will get through this. You will elope with the beautiful young lady you have met, and Bob and I will be at your wedding in Sydney.’

  ‘How the dickens did you know I was entertaining the thought of eloping with Giselle?’ Alex asked in surprise.

  ‘I just think that it is in that Irish blood of yours – that you deny to yourself – to consider the option given you are thwarted by her stubborn German father,’ Matthew grinned at his cousin. ‘Anyway, it is something I would do in your situation and I don’t think that we are much unalike from what I have learned about you on this mission.’

  ‘We have a job to do, first,’ Alex said. ‘Then I will broach the subject with Giselle.’

  A silence followed, the two men gazing out at the swirling sky and rising sea. Behind them the lights on the bridge burned dimly as the chief engineer steered the ship west into a choppy sea. Wallarie’s presence haunted Matthew – even so far from the cave – and he closed his eyes, thinking hard on what the message might mean.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Matthew swore, opening his eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ Alex asked, alarmed by his cousin’s sudden exclamation.

  ‘I think that we are in great danger,’ Matthew said, turning away from the bow rail. ‘You and I should have an urgent talk with Jock.’

  Alex followed his cousin across the rolling deck to the bridge. They climbed a metal ladder and opened the door. Stepping inside they found the Scottish engineer at the ship’s wheel.

  ‘Come to spend some time on the bridge?’ Jock asked cheerily. ‘I could do with the company.’

  ‘Mr McLeod,’ Matthew said, ‘what do you remember about the visit you got from the Customs people back in Rabaul a few days back?’

  Jock looked at Matthew with an expression of surprise. ‘Not much,’ he answered. ‘Just that they herded us
all into the mess like I told you when you came aboard in Rabaul.’

  ‘Did you see the Customs boat when it approached the ship?’ Matthew persisted.

  ‘I did that, laddie,’ the engineer replied. ‘Come to think of it,’ he continued, ‘it was a bit unusual because I remember seeing a couple of German soldiers in the boat – or they might have been marines. They looked like they were guarding a large wooden crate. I just got the feeling that they were a bit anxious about the big crate in the boat.’

  Matthew’s expression tensed. ‘Did you see the boat return to the shore with the Customs people?’ he asked.

  ‘We were allowed to leave the mess when the Customs were finished with us,’ Jock answered. ‘I saw them motor away. There was nothing un . . . the crate was gone! It wasn’t in the boat anymore!’

  Listening to the conversation between his engineer and cousin Alex had been at a loss to understand where Matthew was going with his line of questioning, but suddenly the Scot had comprehended what Matthew was leading to.

  ‘You canna be thinking that the Germans have planted a bomb aboard the ship,’ Jock gasped.

  ‘I don’t bloody well know,’ Matthew replied in exasperation, for nothing but a bad dream without a clear message had prompted the interrogation of the ship’s engineer.

  ‘We must organise a search,’ Alex said. ‘I will wake the captain and inform him of our suspicions.’

  Matthew glanced at his cousin. Alex had the aptitude for quick judgement and an equally fast response to any situation. He was a good leader.

  The captain was shaken awake and he listened intently, as Matthew explained that he thought it would be wise to immediately conduct a search of the ship. Alex reinforced the request by having the rest of the crew, mostly Indian and Malay deckhands, gather in the mess cabin. Once they were briefed a systematic search was put into place.

  The first place the engineer suggested they search was down in the engine room where any explosive device might do the most damage. Jock, Bob, Matthew and Alex clambered into the confined space. The stokers, bathed in sweat, continued to shovel coal into the great furnace that provided heat for the steam engines thereby creating the power to turn the great shaft of the ship’s propeller. It was Bob who found the device near the end of the shaft housing.

  ‘Down here,’ he hollered so as to be heard above the noise.

  The others scrambled into the cramped space between the engines, getting covered in oil and sweat.

  ‘It’s not something meant to be here,’ Jock said, squatting over the black metal ball with a height just above his knees. Affixed to the sinister sphere were gauges and wires.

  ‘What do you think?’ Alex asked over the engineer’s shoulder.

  ‘I would be thinking it is some kind of naval mine that has been modified,’ Matthew said, recognising the deadly explosive he had seen in his travels to war zones. ‘Probably has a timing device attached, designed to go off before we reach the Schumann plantation.’

  Wide-eyed, Bob glanced at Matthew. ‘As we are due to anchor tomorrow that means it is about to explode.’

  ‘What are our options?’ Matthew asked, looking to Alex.

  ‘We only have one option,’ Alex answered. ‘We have to somehow render the mine harmless – we have to disarm it.’

  ‘Anyone here disarmed a mine before?’ Matthew asked, not really expecting a reply in the affirmative.

  ‘Maybe I could have a go,’ the New Zealander said quietly. ‘I have a fair bit of experience with the mechanics of cameras, and from what I can see of this thing it has a bit in common with some of those.’

  ‘I can help you,’ Jock volunteered. ‘It might take an engineer to give assistance taking the wee beastie apart.’

  Alex wiped at his face with the back of his hand to clear away the sweat dripping into his eyes. It was hot and stifling jammed into the stern of the ship’s engine room. ‘I will inform the captain to get all the crew to muster at the bow away from the mine while Jock and Bob have a go disarming it.’

  Matthew understood why the young militia officer had so readily agreed to Jock and Bob volunteering without protesting about the danger they would be in. He was the leader of the mission and as such understood that men’s lives might have to be sacrificed for the greater goal of completing the covert operation.

  ‘I’ll shout you both a cold beer as soon as we get back to Sydney,’ Matthew said, slapping Jock on the back as he squatted, peering intently at the tangle of wires. ‘Just don’t take any bloody stupid chances. If you feel that it is too dangerous to take this bastard apart head straight for the upper deck and we will consider abandoning the ship.’

  Bob nodded and, with a grim smile, turned to his friend. ‘You see, it takes a New Zealander to show you Australian bastards how to get out of trouble. I will take you up on your shout.’

  ‘Take care, Jock,’ Alex said to his engineer and friend. ‘The same goes from me. Any sign of trouble, leg it to the deck.’

  Alex stood down the stokers and ordered them above. He found the captain in the cargo hold with two deckhands searching through the piles of wooden crates with torches. Alex briefed him on the situation, and the captain passed an order for all crew to assemble on the forward deck.

  The frightened men huddled against the rising seas, waves crashing over them in great sprays of salty water while the captain remained on the bridge, guiding his ship skilfully through the tropical storm. Alex and Matthew said little. Alex wondered how time could just seem to stand still as they waited for the two men from below to come up and tell them everything was in hand. The ship’s single lifeboat was large enough to carry them all and had already been swung out in the event that it would have to be used. Alex hoped that they would not have to resort to it in the heavy seas. Although he was not particularly religious, he prayed with all the conviction he could muster that the men below would disarm the mine. As if answering his prayer, he saw Jock’s head appear through a hatchway. A wide grin spread over his face as he waved a jumble of wires over his head.

  ‘God almighty!’ Matthew exclaimed in his relief. ‘They did it!’

  Jock scrambled out of the hatch and walked unsteadily towards them. Behind him, Bob Houston’s head appeared as he clambered up from below.

  ‘We beat the wee beastie,’ Jock shouted victoriously. ‘It had a timing device we . . .’

  His words were never completed. Simultaneously the men at the bow felt the deck shudder under their feet and heard the ear-splitting explosion of metal and timber tearing apart in the bowels of the ship. In a split second Alex realised that a second mine must have been planted in case the first failed to explode. The heat and shock of the blast hurled him off his feet and he was thrown violently through the air and into the raging sea below.

  She was not a pretty sight as she rocked at her moorings in a dock in Sydney’s harbour. Rivulets of rust ran down her hull like dried blood from a wounded animal, but the Macintosh ship was due to steam out of the harbour at first light.

  In the early morning chill Randolph Gates lit a cigar. He was standing alone on the wharf with his swag at his feet, awaiting permission to board. Only a few hours before he had been lying on his bed in the hotel room when he received the call. At the other end of the telephone had been Patrick Duffy briefing him on Fenella’s disappearance in Hawaii and the colonel’s urgent request that Randolph take a berth on a Macintosh steamer heading for the Pacific islands.

  Hasty arrangements had been made to finance the American in his search and the berth booked. Randolph did not hesitate in accepting the task, packed his few belongings and made his way to the moored ship.

  As Randolph puffed on his cigar, he became aware that a man huddled against the chill was approaching him along the dimly lit timbered wharf. When the man was a few feet away Randolph recognised him as Arthur Thorncroft.

  ‘I didn’t want you to leave without a farewell party,’ Arthur said, producing a silver hip flask.

  Randolph
accepted the gesture and took a swig of what proved to be gin. He passed the flask back to Arthur. ‘How did you know I was leaving?’

  ‘Patrick telephoned me,’ Arthur replied, swigging from the flask. ‘He told me that you would be away for some time and not available at the studio. He was kind enough to tell me when you would be leaving and from where.’

  Randolph gazed at the ship. ‘I suppose you have heard how Nellie was located in Hawaii and has again disappeared,’ Randolph said quietly. ‘I guess the colonel suspects that she may have done something terrible to herself.’

  Arthur shook his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Patrick is still haunted by the death of Nellie’s mother. I have known him for many years and feel that my friend is at the end of his tether. I fear more for his welfare than that of Nellie, who I know is a strong and very capable young woman. She would never consider harming herself, no matter how bad the situation became. No, I suspect that my Nellie has simply slipped from the hands of the Yank police.’

  ‘I think so too,’ Randolph responded.

  ‘I have to make a confession,’ Arthur said, staring at the ship. ‘I knew about Nellie skipping Sydney as she came to see me on the eve of her departure. I helped her with papers for her visit to the USA. At the time of our meeting neither of us were aware that Guy had been killed. Nellie is innocent of what the police here want to charge her with.’

  ‘God damn it!’ Randolph exploded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You must know how I feel about her. I would have kept your confidence.’

  ‘She was pregnant,’ Arthur said. ‘You did not know?’

  For a moment Randolph was at a loss for words. ‘No one told me,’ he said in a strangled voice.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Arthur said. ‘She told me it was Guy’s baby, and that she was leaving so as not to bring shame on the family. I also think she ran away because she did not want you to know she was carrying another man’s child – and not just on account of the scandal she thought might be brought down on her father’s name.’