Dedication
In memory of my dearest friend,
Mary Ellen Nicholls, 1945–2016.
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Part One Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Part Two Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Part Three Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Author Notes
Bibliography
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Deborah Challinor
Copyright
Prologue
Sydney, November 1856
The moment the gangway hit Queen’s Wharf, Amber Farrell shot along it like a rat down rigging, her plait flying, the tail of her shirt flapping loose from her trousers.
‘Hoi!’ her father, Captain Rian Farrell, shouted. ‘Come back here. Where d’you think you’re going?’
Amber skidded to a reluctant halt. ‘To find Bao.’
‘Not on your own, you’re not. You wait till someone can go with you.’
Amber’s mother, Kitty, appeared at the gunwale. ‘And you’re not going ashore looking like that. Come back and put on a dress.’
‘Ma! It’s only Bao. She won’t care.’
‘Perhaps not, but I do. Come on, back you come.’
Amber looked mutinous, as if she might just turn and run off anyway, but after a long, pointed glare at her parents she sighed and stomped back up the gangway.
‘I am sixteen, you know,’ she muttered as she stalked past her father. ‘I hardly need a chaperone.’
‘You damn well do,’ he shot back. ‘Tahi can go with you, but ask Haunui first. They might have something else planned.’
Amber brightened, and rushed off to find Tahi and his grandfather.
‘And get changed!’ Kitty called after her. She wasn’t having her daughter gadding about Sydney looking like a ruffian.
‘I blame you,’ Rian remarked benignly.
Startled, Kitty asked, ‘What for?’
‘Her headstrong ways.’
‘Me! She gets that from you, not me.’
Amber was soon back, dragging Tahi by the hand, which he clearly didn’t mind in the least. Haunui followed, carrying his and Tahi’s sea bags. The Katipo had picked them up from Paihia a fortnight earlier, where Rian had taken on a cargo of timber, and they would remain in Sydney, when the Katipo left, as Haunui had business to attend to on behalf of his iwi. They would make their own way back to New Zealand after that.
Rian eyed Amber and Tahi, suddenly doubtful. ‘What if there’s trouble? Think you can look after her, boy?’
Tahi puffed out his chest. ‘Of course I can!’ He nodded at his grandfather. ‘Koro’s been teaching me how to fight. I’m the best at the taiaha and the mere in the village, eh, Koro? For my age group, anyway. And the best shot with a musket.’
‘But you don’t have a musket,’ Rian pointed out.
‘Still the best, though.’
Tahi, Kitty knew, was desperate for time alone with Amber. He’d been in heaven for the past fortnight, cloistered aboard the Katipo with her. He utterly adored her and had since they’d met when they were both four years old and she’d pushed him over on the sand at Paihia. Admittedly he’d cried then, but after recovering from the indignity, he’d been charmed by her, and had remained charmed ever since. Now, Kitty suspected, his infatuation had increased, fed by lust as he grew older.
They had so much in common. Both orphaned at a young age and both children of Maori mothers and Pakeha fathers. No one knew who Amber’s real father was; Tahi’s had been Kitty’s uncle, the miserable and unlamented Reverend George Kelleher, whose moss-covered bones had lain undiscovered for years in a cave near Kororareka. And while Tahi felt he knew his mother, Wai, through Haunui’s frequent stories, Amber knew very little about her birth mother: the poor mad woman had abandoned her, and as far as Amber was concerned, Kitty and Rian were her parents, and had been since they’d adopted her.
Kitty knew from years of personal experience that two weeks with someone on a schooner was hardly time spent alone, so the prospect of an afternoon in Sydney with Amber would be, for Tahi, extremely inviting.
‘Haunui, perhaps you’d better go as well,’ Rian suggested.
Tahi hid his disappointment well, but Haunui was also aware of the massive, flaming torch his mokopuna carried for Amber. ‘Can’t. Got business, eh?’
‘What about Israel?’ Amber asked.
Haunui opened his mouth, then shut it again.
‘Israel?’ Kitty remarked. ‘Do you really think he’d be suitable?’
‘Why not? He’s tall for his age and looks older. Please, Ma. Pa?’ Amber added. ‘That’s two chaperones. Surely that’s plenty?’
Kitty glanced at Rian. They did get on very well, the three youngsters – they’d been as thick as thieves for the last fortnight – and Israel had matured a lot lately. He was no longer the scrawny smart-mouthed ginger-haired waif Rian had taken on as ship’s boy early in 1855. He’d shot up in height, was filling out, had learnt some manners, and it seemed that hard work had knocked a fair bit of the cheek out of him. And much to Kitty’s relief, it appeared that the puppy-like devotion Israel had once had for her had waned, though, on occasion, she worried that he’d transferred it to Amber, as he did tend to follow her around the ship like a lost soul. On the other hand, perhaps he was just lonely for company of his own age. In his eyes, the rest of the crew must seem ancient.
‘They’re young,’ she said. ‘Go on, let them have a bit of fun.’
Rian stared at her for a moment, sighed, then bellowed at a deafening level, ‘Israel, get down here!’
Israel Mitchell trotted along from the ship’s stern, clearly wondering what he’d done wrong.
‘You and Tahi are escorting Amber into town to visit Wong Bao,’ Rian informed him.
Israel looked delighted.
‘I expect you back by . . .’ Rian opened his watch and checked the time. ‘Five o’clock this afternoon. You are her chaperones, do you understand?’
Behind her father’s back Amber rolled her eyes.
‘Yes, sir,’ Israel replied smartly.
‘Do you understand?’ Rian barked at Tahi.
‘Yes, sir!’
‘You do not let her out of your sight, you do not allow her to speak to anyone but Bao, and you do not go to the pub. Understand?’
Vigorous nodding from Tahi and Israel.
‘Good.’ Rian snapped his watch shut and slid it back in his pocket. ‘If you’re not back by five o’clock, rest assured I will come looking for you and I will not be happy.’ He turned to say something to Amber but she’d already left and was waiting on the wharf.
Israel and Tahi tore off down the gangway after her, giggling and elbowing each other to get to her first.
‘Damn children,’ Rian muttered, and stomped off towards the cabin. But he was smiling.
*
‘I thought he was never going to let me go,’ Amber declared, marching along George Street and tugging at the neck of her dress. She hadn’t bothered to put on a chemise, or even a vest, and was now rather wishing she had.
‘Who is this Wong Bao?’ Israel asked.
‘You know, from Ballarat,’ Amber said over her shoulder.
‘He wasn’t at Ballarat, remember,’ Tahi pointed out.
Amber spied a stall selling baked potatoes. ‘I’m starving. You tell hi
m, Tahi, while I get something to eat. Does anyone else want a baked potato?’
‘I do. I’ll buy yours,’ Tahi offered, just as Israel whipped a half crown from his pocket so quickly it looked like a magic trick.
‘I’m flush. We just got our wages. I’ll get them.’
Amber waved them both away and trotted off.
‘I wish she wouldn’t be so . . . well, independent,’ Tahi grumbled, staring after her. ‘Anyway, Amber met Bao and her father, Wong Fu, on the Ballarat goldfields when we were there in ’54. Wong Fu’s still mining there, I think. Bao and Amber became great friends but something terrible happened to them and Bao had to go and live with her uncle, Wong Kai, in Melbourne.’
‘Something terrible like what?’
‘That’s their story to tell, not mine. Anyway, she and Bao have stayed in touch. Bao’s uncle recently moved his headquarters here and Amber wants to visit her. He’s quite a powerful figure, Wong Kai.’
‘I know. I was with Mrs Farrell in Melbourne when she did business with him,’ Israel said, full of importance. ‘When the captain had that trouble with Avery Bannerman and Lily Pearce? Mrs Farrell relied on me then.’
Impressed, Tahi asked, ‘You’ve actually met Wong Kai?’
‘Um, not face to face, no.’
‘So, not at all, then?’
Turning pink, Israel admitted, ‘No.’
‘Neither have I. Don’t think Amber has, either. I’ve heard you don’t want to get on the wrong side of him.’
Amber returned with the potatoes, juggling them gently, as they were steaming hot. ‘Ow. Cheese or plain?’
Israel said, ‘Cheese, please,’ taking a potato from her topped with a drooping slice of melting cheddar.
Tahi took a great bite out of his, then swore, his mouth hanging open to let out the heat, his eyes watering.
Laughing, Amber said, ‘That’ll teach you.’
They wandered slowly up George Street. Israel and Amber had left their sea legs behind at the wharf, but Tahi was still swaying a little, unaccustomed to automatically adjusting between walking on a rolling deck and terra firma.
Amber, who’d spent three-quarters of her life at sea, suggested, ‘Keep your eyes on the horizon. That’ll keep you steady.’
They all looked up ahead, but there was no horizon in sight, only the tall sandstone buildings of the city of Sydney and the busy rush of traffic on the street.
‘Do you know where your friend lives?’ Israel asked.
Amber took a final bite of her potato, fed the rest of it to a mangy-looking dog who’d been following them, and wiped her hands on her skirt. ‘Above a furniture shop owned by a Sun Lee Sing, somewhere down this end of George Street.’
Tahi pointed to a store front across the street. ‘That Sun Lee Sing?’
Grinning, Amber said, ‘Probably. Shall we go and see?’
They darted through the traffic across the road, avoiding potholes gouged by wagon and carriage wheels, and comet tails of bullock and horse shit, to the safety of the footway on the other side.
The interior of the store was spacious, dimly lit and crammed with well-made European-style furniture. The smell was of cedar and shellac. A Chinese gentleman wearing European clothing stood behind the counter, working on a counting frame and making notes in a ledger.
‘Excuse me, are you Mr Sun?’ Amber asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m looking for my friend Miss Wong Bao. I think she might live above your shop with her uncle, Mr Wong Kai.’
Mr Sun stared at her for several seconds, then said, ‘One moment.’
He stepped through to the rear of the shop, picked up a mallet and struck a gong with a single, smart rap. Although the gong was small, the sound filled the store. Amber poked her fingers in her ears until it died away. Eventually footsteps could be heard descending wooden stairs from above, then another man appeared, this one in a traditional Chinese loose tunic over trousers. His forehead was shaved and he wore the long plaited queue.
‘I know you,’ Israel said after a prolonged stare. ‘You’re . . . um.’ Clearly, he’d forgotten the man’s name.
The man stared impassively back. ‘Good afternoon, Master Mitchell.’
Mr Sun said, ‘This is So-Yee, Mr Wong’s factotum.’
‘So-Yee, that’s it!’ Israel exclaimed.
‘Good afternoon,’ Amber said. ‘I’m Amber Farrell, and this is Huatahi Atuahaere. You’ve obviously met Israel. I’m a friend of Miss Wong Bao’s. I’ve come to visit her. Would that be possible?’
‘You are Mrs Kitty and Captain Rian Farrell’s daughter?’ So-Yee asked.
Amber nodded.
‘Ah, yes. Your mother spoke of you, as does Bao, frequently. I will fetch her. She will be delighted to see you.’
What a starchy, cheerless fellow Amber thought as So-Yee disappeared back upstairs and Mr Sun returned to his counting.
‘How do you know him?’ Tahi asked Israel.
‘He came with us to Geelong when we rescued the captain. And he killed Mr Chen, the double-crossing bugger! You should have seen it – threw a knife straight into his heart!’
Tahi frowned, confused. ‘Which one did the double-crossing?’
‘Mr Chen. I never liked him.’
Amber snorted. ‘You weren’t even there, Israel Mitchell.’
‘I was. Well, nearly. I was manning the Katipo.’
Feet clattered down the stairs and a young woman burst through from the rear of the shop.
‘Amber! And Tahi! It is true!’
‘Bao!’ Amber darted forward and embraced her friend tightly, then stepped back to take a good look at her. ‘You’ve grown up! You look wonderful!’
Sixteen now, Bao had grown taller and she’d filled out, no longer the pale little waif she’d been on the Ballarat goldfields. There was colour in her cheeks and Amber had felt substance beneath her hands – muscle and strong bones and vitality. Bao’s black hair fell like a sheet of satin to her waist, held back on both sides of her face with small ivory hairclips, and she wore a long, embroidered silk tunic with wide sleeves over loose trousers. Her feet had never been bound and were encased in blue silk slippers to match her tunic.
‘So do you. Look at your hair!’
Amber did a little spin so that her long, rum-coloured hair flew out around her head. ‘I haven’t cut it since I saw you last. Ma says I’ve got split ends. Oh, it’s so nice to see you. Can you come out?’
‘I am not allowed out without a chaperone.’
‘Well, you already know Tahi,’ Amber said, ‘and this is Israel Mitchell. You can borrow them.’
‘My uncle says I must have a grown-up chaperone.’
Tahi and Israel bristled slightly, offended.
‘But I have an idea,’ Bao said. ‘Wait here.’ She trotted off again, shouting in Cantonese as she thumped up the stairs.
‘I bet you wish the first floor had its own entrance,’ Israel remarked to Mr Sun.
Without looking up from his counting machine, Mr Sun shrugged. ‘I lease premise from Mr Wong, not other way round.’
Bao was soon back with So-Yee in tow. ‘My uncle says I may come out if So-Yee comes with me.’
Amber glanced at Israel and Tahi, who looked crestfallen, which made her want to laugh. What did they think they were going to do that would be ruined by So-Yee in attendance? And whether So-Yee was happy accompanying four youngsters on an outing was impossible to tell, as his expression remained utterly inscrutable.
‘Where are we going?’ Bao asked.
‘I fancy tea and cake,’ Amber said. ‘A tea room?’
So off they went south along George Street, looking for somewhere suitable, So-Yee walking not quite with them but never more than six or seven feet away from Bao. On the corner of George and Market streets they entered a tea room and sat at a table, though So-Yee remained outside on the footway. They could see his back through the wavy glass of the window as he stood, looking out across the street.
&n
bsp; A woman came from behind the counter and stared down at Bao. ‘You’ll have to leave,’ she said curtly. ‘We don’t serve your type in here.’
‘What do you mean?’ Amber demanded.
‘Celestials. Either she goes, or you all do.’
‘Say that again,’ Tahi said, standing quickly.
‘I said, we don’t serve Chinese,’ the woman said again, slowly and deliberately to Bao. ‘Filthy buggers.’
Bao also rose, glancing across at the flies crawling over the cakes and buns arrayed on the counter. ‘That is all right,’ she said loudly. ‘I would prefer not to eat food covered with fly dirt.’
Amber glanced outside: So-Yee was now standing in the open doorway, watching warily. ‘Come on, let’s find somewhere else,’ she said.
‘Good idea,’ Bao agreed. ‘I do not think I like the atmosphere here.’
On the street Tahi said to Amber as Bao marched off, her head held high, ‘She’s changed, hasn’t she?’
‘I’ll say, and it’s not just the way she looks. She’s definitely not the Bao I knew at Ballarat. That Bao wouldn’t have said shoo to a goose. This one I think would wring the goose’s neck if it dared to honk back.’
They ended up at a Chinese eating house, displeasing Israel as he didn’t particularly enjoy Oriental-style food. Grumbling, he ordered a bowl of plain rice and picked at it as the others talked. Once again So-Yee waited outside.
‘I am surprised your father let you come ashore with boys as chaperones,’ Bao remarked to Amber.
‘We’re not boys, we’re men,’ Tahi said cheerfully as he chased a prawn around his bowl with a chopstick.
‘You might be, but he is not,’ Bao replied, nodding at Israel.
His face burning, Israel said, ‘I am so! I’ll be fourteen in a couple of months.’
Bao snorted.
‘And I’ve been a working seaman for years.’
‘And I’ll be a seaman next year when I turn seventeen,’ Tahi said, having finally caught his prawn. He shoved it in his mouth whole and chewed. ‘And I join the crew of the Katipo.’
‘As ship’s boy?’ Bao teased.
‘Not likely. As a proper sailor.’
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