The Forgotten Sea

by Beverley Harper

  ‘Already knew of it. And she wasn’t at all bothered by my interest in it.’

  ‘Must have been weird being in her company.’

  ‘It was. Generations ago, her ancestor and mine were brothers.’ Connor shook his head. ‘Now look at us.’

  ‘Did you experience any kind of emotion? Any bonding?’

  ‘Not really. I think both of us thought we should have but neither of us did.’

  ‘Hardly surprising.’

  ‘We may have nothing else in common, but my civilised mind told me Kathleen is a relative, therefore I will feel connected.’

  ‘And you didn’t.’

  ‘I liked her. Connected? Not really.’ He laughed at himself. ‘I was probably going through some kind of ethical struggle between a learned response and reality.’ He changed the subject suddenly. ‘How was your day?’

  Holly assumed he’d get to the point when he felt like it. ‘I was supposed to visit Pamplemousses Gardens. The trip was cancelled so I set up an interview with Madame Liang Song instead.’

  Connor’s eyebrows registered what he clearly hadn’t expected. ‘Did you indeed. I’m surprised she agreed.’

  ‘She wasn’t given the chance to refuse.’

  ‘So,’ he said softly. ‘There’s a tough side after all.’

  ‘Rock hard.’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘You wish.’

  Holly would have preferred to keep the conversation away from personal feelings. ‘There has to be, in my business.’

  ‘Only on the outside, Holly. Underneath is what really counts.’ He sensed her discomfort, going on to ask, ‘And how was the lady?’

  ‘Immaculate.’

  He laughed. ‘She is rather.’

  ‘Inscrutable.’

  ‘Madame Liang? Never.’

  ‘A bit like interviewing a wind-up doll.’

  ‘Now, now. Did you get what you wanted?’

  ‘A few quotable quotes, some good business background, a couple of reluctant peeks into her personal life and a bloody good lunch. I had a wander around Port Louis afterwards and found myself being followed by the two Chinese gentlemen whose conversation you were so fascinated by yesterday. They knew I was on to them but it didn’t seem to matter. I was followed all the way back to my hotel.’

  Connor looked concerned. ‘Be careful, Holly. You promised not to rock any boats. Don’t gamble with your own safety just for a story.’

  ‘Why follow me though? I’m a journalist. It stands to reason that I ask a lot of questions. Why so paranoid about a tourist article? I’m fairly sure Madame Liang had them find out where I went after our lunch but I fail to understand her reason. Unless it’s because she’s seen me with you.’ Holly waited but Connor made no comment. She sighed and said with heavy sarcasm, ‘No, please. I insist you tell me nothing.’

  ‘Holly, I’m sorry. I just can’t say any more.’

  She shrugged. ‘I can probably work it out for myself. Let’s see. It’s safe enough to assume that your exceedingly long business arm extends right around the world. In other words, you are known in boardrooms from Cape Town to Cairo, Marrakech to Michigan, Leningrad to Lightning Ridge and all points in between. You have an astonishingly high profile, Maguire, and, more importantly, you are very well connected. I’m a little cloudy on your motives since you don’t strike me as the type to do anything so stupid you’re likely to end up in prison, but a short flight of fancy leads me to all kinds of interesting possibilities.’

  ‘Such as?’ His eyes were unreadable.

  ‘You said it yourself. Drugs. Mauritius is in the middle of a bloody great ocean. So we expect to find boats and yachts of every size and purpose. We also have direct flights to and from Africa, Europe, India and Australia. You see what I’m speculating on here, Maguire? This island is ideally placed to act as a clearing house for supplying drugs from the East to the African mainland, Europe and the west coast of Australia. An Indian connection makes sense since about seventy per cent of Mauritians originated from that part of the world. The Chinese hook-up is not immediately apparent but I’ll bet anything you care to mention that Madame Liang is in it right up to her pretty little Chinese collar. How am I doing?’

  ‘Way off beam.’

  ‘So help me out, Maguire.’

  He reached across the table and gripped her arm, not painfully but with just enough strength in his fingers to say that he was serious. ‘Drop it, Holly.’

  She snatched her arm away. A waiter appeared with two beers and Holly used the diversion to control her frustration. When the man had moved away, she said, ‘You were telling me about your day. We seem to have veered off the subject.’ She had no idea how angry her eyes were.

  Connor tried to make light of it. ‘I’m sorry.’ He laughed. ‘I seem to spend my time apologising to you.’

  Surprising herself, she forgave him, though she did question the sudden lapse into feminine acquiescence. ‘Forget it. I hate mysteries, it’s as simple as that. Tell me about Kathleen.’

  With contentious issues momentarily sidetracked, Connor and Holly stopped skirting warily around each other. ‘Like I said, she’s a nun. What I didn’t mention is her interest in genealogy – must be a family failing.’ Connor produced some folded sheets of paper from his pocket and spread them out in front of him. ‘Are you ready for this?’

  Eyeing them upside down, Holly saw names and arrows going off in all directions.

  ‘I’ve got my tape with me. Do you mind if I run it?’

  ‘You’d better. I’m not sure I want to go through it all again.’

  Holly switched on the machine.

  ‘When William Maguire died, he left, among others, a baby son.’

  ‘That information is in the journal. Thomas, if I recall. He was the youngest of three.’

  ‘Correct. But Kathleen had additional information.’ Connor sipped his beer, peering at the notes in concentration. ‘Apparently Thomas became a fisherman. Kathleen has no idea what happened to the other two children.’

  ‘How does she know about Thomas?’

  ‘I’ll get to that. Thomas married and had four children. His only son, Sean, was born around 1770. While still in his teens, Sean followed in the footsteps of his grandfather and joined the self-proclaimed pirate king called Robert Surcouf. You mentioned him the other day. He operated out of Port Louis.’

  ‘What happened to Sean?’

  ‘He was killed in a skirmish with the British.’

  ‘Did he have a family?’

  ‘After a fashion. Various children littered from here to the Seychelles. About three years after he died, a woman approached Thomas with a child she said was Sean’s. Thomas obviously believed her. He christened the boy William and raised him as his own for ten years.’

  Holly’s head was spinning.

  Connor looked up. ‘You still with me?’

  ‘Recap for the tape. The first William Maguire had a son called Thomas. His son was Sean and Sean’s son was William. Okay, I think that’s clear enough.’

  ‘It gets better. There’s a third William, another Sean, two Georges and a second Thomas.’

  Holly grinned. ‘I’ll say this for the Mauritian contingent of the Maguire family, they’re consistent, if a little lacking in originality.’

  ‘Stick with it. I’ll make it brief. When Thomas died, the journal was handed to William. Apparently, Thomas must have seen that the young man could be trusted. He certainly hadn’t been close to his own son, Sean.’

  ‘Okay. What happened next?’

  ‘When William died in 1847 – William the second, that is – the journal went to his son, George, and then to his son, Gilchrist. Gilchrist didn’t live long, about thirty-five years. He drowned.’

  ‘Any more pirates?’

  ‘No. After Sean, the family settled down and became full-time fishermen.’

  ‘Before you go on, did Kathleen say why no-one followed the map and looked for William’s treasure?’

  ‘I expect they
did but, back then, it wouldn’t have been easy. We have the advantage of accurate maps, metal detectors and other forms of technology, not to mention the convenience of good roads and fast cars. The journal doesn’t say where the treasure is hidden. It might even be on Rodrigues.’

  ‘Okay. Where were we?’

  ‘Drowning with Gilchrist.’

  ‘I suppose he had a son?’

  ‘Several, apparently. The only one Kathleen has information on is Sean. He was only four when his father drowned.’

  ‘What year are we talking here?’

  ‘Um,’ Connor peered at his notes, ‘Gilchrist drowned in 1873.’

  ‘So Mauritius was well and truly British by then?’

  Connor nodded. ‘Since the Treaty of Paris in 1814. It was Gilchrist’s wife who sent the journal to Ireland for safe-keeping. That’s the Aroon I told you about, the one who enclosed a note with it.’

  ‘And it went to the wrong side of the family. Who delivered it?’

  ‘Aroon gave it to a missionary who was being recalled to Ireland for health reasons. He died aboard the ship taking him home and he entrusted its delivery to a fellow passenger.’

  ‘I wonder why Aroon felt it necessary to send the journal home? What would prompt her to do that?’

  ‘Kathleen thinks it had something to do with the Free Labour Association. You see, they abolished slavery here in 1835 and very few of the slaves stayed on the sugar estates. Property owners had to look elsewhere for labour. An immigration scheme between Mauritius and India was established and coolie labour became commonplace but conditions were appalling. Wages operated on a double cut system which meant employers could withhold two days’ pay for every day a worker took off. Sickness virtually guaranteed that most coolies were actually in debt most of the time. So unrest erupted. There was fear among the Creoles that they’d be forced back into labour. As keeper of Williams’ journal, Aroon probably thought it would be safer in Ireland.’

  ‘And there it stayed until you found it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where does Kathleen fit in?’

  ‘The second Sean had a son, William the third. He was killed in 1917 fighting the German, von Lettow, in Tanganyika. His son was George the second and George’s son was Thomas the second.’

  Holly shook her head rapidly in an effort to take it in. ‘Thank God that’s all on tape.’

  Connor grinned at her. ‘The detail doesn’t matter. What does is that Kathleen is a sister of the second Thomas.’

  ‘And something of a family historian.’

  ‘Only so far as the original William’s son, Thomas, is concerned. She has no idea what became of his sisters. She’s restricted her research to a direct link with the first William Maguire.’

  ‘This is all very interesting . . .’ Holly broke off as their meal arrived, ‘. . . as history goes. But you don’t appear to know any more about the treasure itself.’

  ‘Oh but I do.’ Connor held up a yellowish piece of paper. ‘I have the map.’

  He spread it carefully on the table. Holly looked at it aghast. It was the original of the copy she’d seen in Justin’s pocket.

  SIX

  A myriad of thoughts swept through Holly’s mind. She was certain it was the same map as the one in Justin’s pocket. Although she’d only glanced at it, certain features were clear in her mind. Top corner missing, crease marks, signs of a tear almost to the centre. How did Justin come to have it, and why? He’d said the original must have been stolen during the attack or fallen from his pocket. Was the story about dodo research just that, a story? He had a map all right – William’s.

  And now Connor was showing her that very same page from the journal. Was he responsible for the attack and the trashing of Justin’s room? ‘Where did you get this?’ Holly demanded.

  He carefully returned the map to his pocket. ‘Kathleen gave it to me.’

  ‘I thought you said it was missing.’

  ‘It was.’ Connor picked up his fork. ‘Eat before it gets cold.’

  ‘That’s it? You’re avoiding my question yet again.’

  He glanced up briefly from his plate. ‘I’m not. I haven’t eaten all day and I’m starving.’

  Holly thought he was deliberately keeping her waiting. Either that, or stalling for time. She wanted to believe him but found herself suddenly uncertain and sceptical. Had he arranged the attack or was it true that Kathleen gave him the map. Come to that, how did Kathleen get her hands on it? She couldn’t have organised theft and thuggery, she was a bloody nun for God’s sake! Where did Justin fit into all of this? Should she mention the copy to Connor? No! Not until some believable answers are forthcoming.

  By the time their empty plates had been removed, Holly was no closer to knowing who she could trust. She waited impatiently to hear what Connor had to say next. He ordered two more beers.

  ‘I want you to meet Kathleen.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You doubt me. I can see it in your eyes.’

  Damned traitorous things! Holly avoided his gaze. ‘How come Kathleen had the map?’

  ‘She found it.’

  Holly’s scepticism grew. She was forced to look at him again. ‘Where?’

  Connor raised one eyebrow at her tone but answered patiently. ‘I told you about Kathleen’s interest in her family tree. She goes to the site of William Maguire’s house to get a feel for the past. There’s not much there any more. A few foundations, part of a stone floor, half a chimney, some stone steps. But the atmosphere is incredible. Kathleen is fairly spiritual. She can sense things just by being there.’

  ‘You mean she’s clairvoyant?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ He smiled at her expression of disbelief. ‘She’s what I would call fey. She’s aware of the supernatural, has a completely open mind on the subject, but doesn’t run around with a crystal ball. You’d have to meet her to understand. I’m going back tomorrow. Come with me if you like.’

  ‘Are you seriously telling me that she found the map in the ruins of William’s house by following some kind of extrasensory instinct?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘And?’ Holly prodded. ‘Come on, Maguire. There must be more to it than that.’

  ‘Okay.’ He reached into a pocket and produced cigarettes and a lighter. ‘Do you mind if I smoke? I’m trying to give up but . . .’

  ‘I couldn’t care less if you burst into flames.’

  Connor grinned wryly and lit a cigarette. ‘Kathleen became interested in tracing her family when both her parents were killed in a bus accident a couple of years ago. Her brother, Thomas, had become seriously depressed over the loss so it was Kathleen who had to go through all the personal effects, documents and so on before putting the family home up for sale. What with her duties as a nun and a determination to do the job thoroughly, it took months.’

  Holly caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. She’d given up five years earlier but sometimes, like now, the smell was so pleasant that she craved a puff. Without stopping to think she put out a hand. Without hesitation Connor passed the cigarette to her. She dragged in smoke but didn’t inhale, blew it lazily upwards and handed the cigarette back. No words. No look. It was the action of two people who knew each other intimately. A fact that struck them simultaneously. Holly looked down at her hands, embarrassed. Connor cocked an eye at his cigarette, as though it had spoken. It took him several seconds to continue.

  ‘She came across some old letters, love letters really, written between Gilchrist and Aroon. There was also a diary, which Aroon apparently started after Gilchrist drowned. But the exciting discovery was a box of old papers. They turned out to be copies of birth, death and marriage records. There were also several sheets of paper where someone had tried to follow the family lineage. That’s when Kathleen decided to have a go at it for herself.’

  ‘Quite a find. Fancy all that stuff being kept for such a long time.’

  ‘That’s not all. Some of the old records had been p
osted to the family. I told Kathleen to check the envelopes. An 1847 penny red stamp, provided it’s in good condition, can fetch anything up to a million Australian dollars today. It’s possible that she is sitting on a fortune in stamps.’

  ‘First the treasure, now the stamps. You must look a bit like Santa Claus to Kathleen.’ Holly smiled. The image of Connor Maguire in an oversized red suit was a bit hard to take. ‘Did Aroon’s diary mention the journal?’

  ‘No. The only thing of interest was a reference to her house in relation to rock formations, trees and the view from it. Kathleen traced the ruins and discovered that they dated back to the original William.’

  ‘How on earth did she realise that?’

  ‘His initials, WMM, and the date, 1726, are cut into one of the chimney stones.’

  ‘So Gilchrist and Aroon lived in the house that William built?’

  ‘We have to make some assumptions. It seems pretty likely. My guess is she lived there until she died.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Mauritius gets hit by a monster cyclone every twenty-five years or so. Four years after Gilchrist drowned, a big one struck. Kathleen is pretty certain that it killed Aroon. It’s one of the family stories. No proof though the date on her headstone tallies, 1877.’

  ‘Refresh my memory, I got a little lost back there. Any children?’

  ‘Four. But Kathleen has only traced one of them. A son – Sean. Must have been about eight when his mother died. We don’t know much more about him. Knowledge of the journal and map, at least within the Mauritius side of the family, died with Aroon.’

  He stubbed out the cigarette. ‘Anyway, Kathleen started to visit the ruins regularly. Apparently she gets the feeling of being welcome there.’

  ‘And the map?’

  ‘She found it quite early on.’ He gave her a quizzical look. ‘This might stretch your imagination somewhat but she told me she’d been led to it.’

  Surprising both herself and Connor, Holly giggled, then found she couldn’t stop. Her ribs hurt but she was helpless.

  ‘Is it something you’d care to share with me?’ Connor asked eventually. ‘Or do you plan to sit there amusing yourself for a while? No, please,’ he added, holding up a hand as the mirth that had bubbled up so unexpectedly became a throaty laugh, ‘don’t stop on my account.’