The Whitest Flower

by Brendan Graham

  ‘That poor soul is, I’m afraid,’ Ellen said, inclining her head towards the body of Samarara. ‘Lavelle is still alive, but barely, I’d say. Coombes whipped him to within an inch of his life.’

  ‘Did Lavelle kill the native?’ Ma-Ma Baker asked.

  ‘No,’ Ellen said. ‘Coombes had him hung – for Kitty’s murder. Lavelle tried to stop it, so Coombes flogged him.’

  Mary Magdalen Baker moved to Lavelle, handing one jar of ointment to Ellen, holding another for herself.

  ‘This was savage,’ she said, as she gently applied the balm to the lacerations on Lavelle’s back. ‘There was bad work done here tonight. Any fool would know it wasn’t the Aborigines. I warned Mr Coombes about having that Kendall about the place, but he wouldn’t listen to me.’ The housekeeper shook her head ruefully.

  ‘So you think it was Kendall too?’ Ellen asked, surprised at the woman’s forthrightness.

  ‘Of course I do, girl! There was an incident here last time Kendall came – not as bad as what happened in the maze, but bad enough. It all got hushed up, though. Mr Coombes sent the girl away. Irish, she was, too,’ the housekeeper whispered to Ellen.

  The two women worked side by side, mostly in silence, anointing, as if in the Sacrament of the Dying, the bloodied body of Lavelle. Not once did he stir, nor utter a sound, in response to their ministrations.

  ‘We’d better get him into the house now,’ Ma-Ma Baker said, taking charge. ‘You there – Bodkins! Stop skulking about and help us carry him … that is, if you want any victuals in that greasy belly of yours for the next month,’ the housekeeper rasped into the shadows.

  The shadows responded, and produced Bodkins, a hapless-looking creature if ever there was one, thought Ellen. However, he proved reliable enough, and helped them peel Lavelle from off the wine cask. Mrs Baker then covered his torn skin with a light gauze dressing she had fetched from the house. They then carried Lavelle face downwards, Bodkins supporting his legs, wheelbarrow-style, with Ellen and Mrs Baker linking arms under his chest. Eventually, they got him to a guest room and laid him face-down on the bed.

  Ellen sat with him, dabbing a wet cloth to his neck and temples, trying to cool the temperature that raged in him. Mrs Baker checked on Annie. Then, Ellen left, and the housekeeper remained. During Ellen’s second vigil with Lavelle his head moved, ever so slightly, to her touch. More worried about him with every passing moment, she put her mouth to his ear and softly called to him: ‘Lavelle! Lavelle! Wake up – you’re going to be fine, thank God. It’s me, Ellen. I’m here with you. Wake up – please, wake up!’

  She waited at his ear, listening, the skin of her lips on his skin, knowing that if he moved, however slightly, the sensation would be carried to her.

  Nothing.

  She called to him again – this time more strongly.

  Again, there was no response.

  But she would not give up. She tried again, and this time, as soon as she called his name, she heard him say in a barely distinguishable whisper: ‘You’re here … Stay.’

  ‘Yes, Lavelle,’ she said. ‘Of course I’ll stay. I’ll stay until you’re mended again. Don’t worry; I’ll stay!’ Uncertain whether her words were registering with him.

  Lavelle spoke again, struggling to form the words: ‘Get away, Ellen … Danger … Coombes … Got to get … I … help … you!’ Then he fell back into unconsciousness.

  Ellen set to thinking as she nursed him. She had already decided, after finding Kitty, that she must get away from this awful place. No wonder Coombes looked after them well, didn’t work them too hard, and, in her case, educated her so that she might mix more easily with his gentlemen friends. Striapachs – prostitutes – that’s what Coombes wanted them for. Well, she wasn’t going to be anybody’s whore, more education or not. But where would she go? She could hardly run to Adelaide, she would be discovered straight away. And who knew what Coombes might do? If anything happened to her, Annie would perish too. Then, once Pakenham found out she wasn’t returning, he might cast out Patrick and Mary and Katie.

  She had to stay alive. And to do that, she had to escape from South Australia and Jasper Coombes.

  By morning, Lavelle was moving his head and moaning. Even if he was still in delirium, thought Ellen, it was a welcome sign.

  Mrs Baker did everything that could be done. She brought more liniment for his wounds. She forced a sponge soaked in quinine between his teeth, so that he could suck the pain-killing liquor into his agonized body. She spoon-fed him morsels of bread steeped in milk, gently prising the spoon through the corner of his lips.

  Ellen went to see how Nora and Sarah were. She wanted to tell them that she had decided to flee Crockford’s and to ask if they wanted to escape with her. They weren’t in the servants quarters, so she didn’t persist. There wasn’t time to go to the dairy or the vineyard – she had to get back to Lavelle.

  As the day wore on, Lavelle’s spells of consciousness grew longer. In between he fell into what were now bouts of sleep rather than unconsciousness. Despite his ordeal and the pain he must have been suffering, even with Mrs Baker’s quinine, he managed to speak to her.

  ‘Thank you for saving my life, Ellen … And for being there – it helped.’

  ‘You’re a very brave man, Lavelle, to stand up to Coombes,’ she told him. ‘And obviously tougher than you look, too!’

  Her remark drew a short laugh from him, and she was pleased at this.

  There was still no sign of either Sarah or Nora later that day. Ellen, beginning to fear for their safety, asked Mrs Baker if she knew where they were.

  ‘Well, he didn’t tell me, as he should have, but it seems Mr Coombes took them off to Adelaide to that Mrs Hopskitch friend of his. Bodkins readied the cart for them.’

  Ellen’s ears pricked up.

  ‘Mrs Hopskitch is a friend of Coombes?’

  ‘Oh, yes – they go back years!’ the housekeeper answered. ‘He always calls on her when he visits Adelaide, though he’s never had her up here. Why – what do you know of her sort?’ she turned the question back on Ellen.

  ‘Only that Sarah and Nora were bound for her as indentured servants, but Coombes brought them here, instead. What’s strange is that he made a great showing of how he had gone to a lot of trouble to find out where Mrs Hopskitch lived. He said he had talked her into letting the girls come here with us,’ Ellen said, an uneasy feeling growing inside her.

  ‘Indentured servants – hah! The service Mrs Hopskitch runs is the oldest in the world, and you don’t need no indentureship to take to it! Didn’t you know, Mrs O’Malley? Mrs Hopskitch is a madam – the biggest in Adelaide. And that’s where those two girls are bound for. Coombes and her is as thick as thieves. It’s a shame!’

  Ellen was shocked. First Kitty, now Nora and Sarah gone. The two young innocents wouldn’t last long on the streets of Adelaide. She felt helpless, as if events were moving all around her – and she was powerless to change things. But change things was exactly what she had to do.

  If Coombes was getting rid of Sarah and Nora in this way, then what were his plans for her? She knew far more than them about the goings on at Crockford’s. She had to leave, and leave now. Where she went, what she did, was secondary. She just had to be gone from Crockford’s before Coombes returned. It was her only chance.

  Later that night, when the house was quiet, she went to Lavelle. He was sleeping, so she woke him, motioning to him to be silent. She could see the pain shoot across his face as he turned towards her.

  ‘I’ve come to tell you that Annie and I are leaving this place,’ she whispered close to his ear. ‘Nora and Sarah are now spirited to Adelaide by Coombes, and I fear for my life, and Annie’s life, if I am here when he returns.’

  Lavelle’s face twisted with the comprehension of what she was saying. ‘Ellen, you can’t go alone … Where will you go to? You’ll never survive – it’s wild land out there, and you with a small child!’

  ‘I have to go, Lavel
le. I’ve made up my mind!’ she said, hating telling him when he was like this.

  ‘What if Coombes contacts Pakenham – your children?’ he gasped.

  ‘I know – he might. But I don’t think Pakenham will harm them,’ she said, remembering the Shanafaraghaun man.

  ‘Let me help you – come with you. I know the bush!’

  ‘Lavelle, no! You can’t move – those wounds will take time to heal. No, I’ll make it on my own – but thank you!’

  ‘Ellen, listen to me,’ he argued. ‘I can’t stay here either, I’ve had enough. Coombes will be gone for three more days. Give me time to recover … time for us to plan it properly.’

  Ellen reflected on what Lavelle had said. It would be difficult on her own with Annie. She didn’t know this land, the conditions, the distances. Also, whereas a lone woman might travel safely in Ireland, here she was unlikely to have safe passage. And he was right – what would Coombes do to him if, on returning, he found her gone?

  ‘All right,’ she said, making her mind up. ‘We’ll go together.’

  ‘Good,’ Lavelle replied. ‘We can talk more tomorrow.’ He smiled at her as best he could.

  She smiled back, and noiselessly slipped through the dark house to her own room and Annie. The child was still sleeping. This time without the strong, rocking arm of Ma-Ma Baker.

  * * *

  The next morning, to avoid arousing suspicions, Ellen went to work as normal. Chevalier, when he had stopped complaining about the state in which his cellar had been left by the friends of Monsieur Coombes, wanted to teach her some old picking chanson from the Champagne district. He made no mention of the awful happenings at Crockford’s of only a few days ago.

  Later she went to see Lavelle again. He seemed much stronger and greeted her with, ‘I think I have it!’

  Ellen listened as Lavelle explained his plan to her. The three of them would leave the Barossa, taking with them four of Coombes’ horses – two to carry them, and two to carry water and provisions. They would head south-easterly down towards Hahndorf. Then to Mount Barker and on to the mouth of the Murray River at Encounter Bay.

  ‘Will that way keep us well clear of Adelaide?’ Ellen asked him.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘My guess is, Coombes will work out that we’ll avoid Adelaide, and will think we’ve headed overland along the Murray-Darling route for Sydney, which is the route by which he and I came here. Then again …’

  It wasn’t easy to second guess what Coombes would do, and harder still to figure out a way to stay one step ahead of him.

  ‘But where are we going to?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘We’re going to go along the coast to Melbourne. It’s not the most direct route, but we’re less likely to meet overlanders coming against us, who would carry word back here. And then, once we get there, we should be able to find some work in Melbourne, if I’m not spotted by the law.’

  It sounded to Ellen as though Lavelle had thought it out well. She knew little of the terrain or the distances they must travel, but it made sense to avoid any route which Coombes might suspect they would take.

  And Melbourne was a port. Once she had raised the passage money, they could get a ship to America – to Boston, where the Irish went. She thought of Mici Maol and the woman who had come to her about the money draft. Once there, getting home would be easier. A lot easier.

  ‘How long will it take us to get to Melbourne?’ she asked.

  Lavelle thought for a while, working it out, before he answered. ‘Well, Goolwa and the Lower Murray would be over a hundred miles. With a bit of luck, we should hit the coast in five to six days. Then, we have to cross the Coorong. It depends, too, on how the Aboriginal tribes are. If they’ve had trouble from any white overlanders, then we could be in for a rough time. I suppose, to get to Mount Gambier, near the border, would be another three hundred miles.’

  ‘What?’ Ellen said in disbelief. ‘That’s more than the length of all of Ireland, from Malin to Mizen, and we won’t even be gone from South Australia?’

  ‘This is a big country you came to, Ellen Rua,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. He could see that she was losing courage. ‘We’ll just have to see how we go.’

  She wondered about Lavelle’s fitness for such a trip. And Annie’s – how would the child survive such an arduous journey? She would just have to ensure that Annie got enough nourishment and rest. She would protect her, see to it that the two of them made it to Melbourne.

  But as soon as she eased one doubt from her mind, another arrived to replace it. Could she rely on Lavelle? She hardly knew him, had no way of knowing what his motives were in volunteering to join them on this long, difficult journey.

  She decided to put aside all these questions. Her choice was stark, and simple: go or stay.

  She had to go. And since she couldn’t make it alone, it had to be with Lavelle.

  * * *

  She saw Lavelle again the following day. Ma-Ma Baker had dressed his wounds and he was up and moving about, though still in pain. They made their final arrangements for that night.

  The Crockford’s clock rang out the midnight hour.

  That was their signal. Ellen hurriedly gathered up the rest of her own and Annie’s belongings, and stuffed them into a holdall. Then she swaddled Annie into a blanket. The child was awake, so she whispered to her to be very quiet.

  As she left the room, carrying her child, Ellen closed the door behind them with a finality that made it seem she was shutting out of her life all the bad experiences of Crockford’s. She crept along the hallway to the kitchen, where she was to meet Lavelle.

  The kitchen was in darkness, but she could make out his silhouette. Together they filled two sackfuls of food from Ma-Ma Baker’s well-stocked pantry. Ellen also helped herself to some potions and salves from the medicine chest for Lavelle’s back. When they had as much as they could carry, they slipped out through the back door.

  They had just reached the paddocks, when Lavelle laid a hand on her arm and whispered urgently: ‘The fiddle, Ellen – I’ve forgotten the fiddle. I’ve got to go back for it.’

  It seemed an eternity before he returned, she worrying all the while lest he had been discovered and their plans thwarted. Annie, too, seemed restless, and Ellen was terrified that she might begin to cry. The relief she felt when she saw him coming towards her, the house and the maze rising out of the dark behind him, was indescribable.

  With a soft whistle, he called the horses to him. The animals waited patiently while he loaded two of them with their provisions. She had had some chance on the horses during her time at Crockford’s and liked the animals, wasn’t frightened of them. All the same she was glad when Lavelle reassured her with the words, ‘I picked a quiet mare for you, Ellen. I’ll lead it on the rein a while till you get used to her.’

  So, mounted on two horses, with Lavelle leading hers and the other two, they rode out, gently at first, putting the low, Barossa moon between themselves and Crockford’s.

  Neither looked back once.

  36

  Once out of Crockford’s, they skirted around Bethany and rode southward, keeping Jacob’s Creek to their right and the Kaiserstuhl – the Emperor’s Seat, highest point in the Barossa – to their left.

  Neither spoke. Lavelle, having complimented Ellen at the start of the journey that her healing hands had worked miracles – now felt as if every wound on his back was opening up again. Ellen, herself, was preoccupied with recurring doubts as to whether she was doing the right thing, whether the small child strapped to her back would survive the journey that lay ahead of them. Her mind raced back and forth, trying to make sense of it all.

  After some hours riding, they stopped and Lavelle built a small fire to heat a billycan of tea.

  ‘We won’t wait long here – better we ride through the night,’ he said to her over the flames.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Yes, we should.’ She wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and the p
lace they had left.

  ‘Lavelle,’ she asked when they were back on the horses. ‘What will happen back there?’

  ‘Coombes has probably taken Samarara’s body to Adelaide, as proof that he caught and hanged Kitty’s murderer – after a fair trial, of course! Then the Peelers need not be beating about up at Crockford’s looking for the killer.’

  ‘Surely they won’t believe him?’ she said incredulously.

  ‘Oh, but they will! Especially when Kendall, and some of Coombes’ other guests – though maybe not Craigie’ – He gave a little smile at the mention of the Scotsman’s name – ‘throw their weight behind Coombes’ version. After all, we’re not talking about human beings. Nobody in Adelaide is going to get too excited about one less black savage roaming the bush frightening the white womenfolk. That’s the way it is!’

  ‘It’s white savagery – what’s going on out here – and Coombes is the devil himself!’ Ellen said angrily. ‘And what about the girls?’

  ‘Coombes always made sure of keeping me well away from all that – would send me to Adelaide or out Bush. I had my suspicions, but he always covered up everything so well. Said he was giving the girls a new chance in life and if they were flattered by the attention and became infatuated with some of his friends, what was wrong with that?’

  ‘And Mrs Hopskitch in Adelaide?’ she pressed. ‘Coombes pretending he didn’t know her …?’

  ‘I had no idea Coombes was connected to her. He always had a story to explain why any of the girls went back to Adelaide – like they found Crockford’s too isolated, or that they’d run off to one of his men-friends there.’

  ‘Do you think Mrs Baker knows what’s been going on?’

  ‘Ma-Ma isn’t a bad sort – bark worse than her bite, but she wouldn’t let out anything on Coombes. He’s got some hold over her, though she’d never say.’

  Ellen felt that many of her questions were now laid to rest. Coombes was too cunning to let Lavelle, or anyone else, in on his secrets. She believed that the Achill Island man was innocent of any involvement. He had shown great courage in standing up to Coombes, trying to save Samarara’s life – and had paid a savage price for it.