The World Duology (World Odyssey / Fiji: A Novel)

by Lance Morcan

  Looking back on that now, Drake Senior realized he had the teacher to thank for inspiring his daughter to stop moping around and to aspire to do something with her life.

  Beyond devoting herself to her chosen profession, Susannah helped her father with parish duties, sang in the church choir and enjoyed the companionship of a large number of friends around her own age. A delightful, well-rounded young lady, one of Drake Senior’s parishioners had recently told him – and he couldn’t agree more.

  “Anyway,” Susannah said, interrupting her father’s thoughts, “what was it you wished to speak to me about, papa?”

  Clutching his ever-present bible, the clergyman marshaled his thoughts and looked sternly at his daughter. “You know I have been called by God to spread his word?” It was more a statement than a question.

  Susannah nodded. “Yes, papa, and I know your parishioners respect the work you are doing here.” The young woman sensed her father wasn’t referring to the work he was doing in the parish. She was well aware he was a long-time supporter of the London Missionary Society and had long held ambitions to do the Lord’s work abroad. However, she wasn’t sure she approved and so wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

  Drake Senior continued, “Well, he has spoken to me and I now know what I must do.”

  Susannah waited expectantly.

  Drake Senior announced, “He has called me to spread his word to the heathens of Fiji.”

  Susannah was shocked. “But papa, they are cannibals in Fiji.”

  Drake Senior smiled patiently. “That they are, my dear. However, the missionaries of our church are having some success in converting those same cannibals to Christianity.”

  The clergyman went on to tell Susannah about the Wesley Methodist Mission at Momi Bay, on Fiji’s main island of Viti Levu. He talked with such passion about the missionaries’ successes there that Susannah could see his mind was already made up.

  As Drake Senior spoke, Susannah slowly came round to the idea of moving to warmer climes – even if that meant living among cannibals. She suddenly liked the prospect of waking up to blue skies and a tropical sun. The gray dome that seemed to permanently cover England for much of the year was beginning to get to her. I do need a change of scene, she admitted to herself.

  Knowing Drake Senior never changed his mind once he’d decided on a course of action, Susannah interrupted him, saying, “Of course you have my full support, papa.”

  A relieved Drake Senior smiled.

  Susannah added hurriedly, “On one condition.”

  Her father’s smile evaporated.

  “That I accompany you to Fiji,” Susannah said.

  “That’s out of the question,” Drake Senior responded. “I doubt the London Missionary Society would allow it. Besides, Fiji is no place for a woman.”

  “Papa, you said yourself the Smiths have been stationed at the Momi Bay mission without incident for the past two years.”

  Drake Senior couldn’t deny that.

  Susannah continued, “If the good Lord is watching over me, as I’m sure he is, then I will have nothing to fear going to Fiji.”

  Over the next five minutes, Susannah proceeded to wear her father down, putting up numerous incontestable reasons why she should accompany him.

  “Alright!” Drake Senior said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I can see you are never going to stop pestering me. So, young lady, I shall save myself the trouble and relent now.”

  Susannah laughed delightedly and threw her arms around her father, kissing him on the cheek. “Oh, thank you, daddy!”

  Drake Senior smiled. He was secretly thrilled Susannah wanted to accompany him. He’d dreaded the thought of leaving her behind. The proud father privately gave thanks to God for giving him such a fine daughter.

  #

  Later, in the privacy of her bedroom, Susannah admitted to herself there was another reason she was keen to accompany her father to Fiji: she wanted to leave England to help her forget her former beau, Blake Dugan. Although six years had elapsed since the young man had been killed, Susannah hadn’t forgotten him. She’d had several ardent suitors since, but Blake – or his memory at least – remained the love of her life.

  Susannah realized she needed to move on if she was to live a normal life. Fiji will be an adventure! She suddenly felt genuinely excited about her forthcoming journey to the South Pacific.

  12

  New South Wales, 1838

  The caravan of horses and horse-drawn carts left trails of dust as it negotiated the fifteen miles between Sydney Town and the penal settlement at Parramatta – and the sun beat down relentlessly on prisoners and soldiers alike. Blue sky disappeared behind bush-covered hills far to the west. In the shimmering heat, a local phenomenon gave the hills a bluish appearance. In between the hills and the caravan, the dry earth was dotted with towering, tinder-dry eucalyptus trees – locally referred to as gum trees.

  For the soldiers who had acclimatized to life in the colony it was just another day; for the prisoners who had survived the nightmare voyage from Britain it was hell. Several prisoners fainted in the heat and all suffered varying degrees of sunstroke. Their military escorts showed no concern for the plight of their charges.

  Taking in his new surroundings, Jack told himself he wouldn’t mind a penny for every gum tree he could see. I’d be a wealthy man indeed. Kangaroos drinking by a billabong, or freshwater pool, caught his eye. Suddenly disturbed by the appearance of men and horses, the strange animals hopped away. One of the females had a joey, or baby, in her pouch.

  Not a hundred paces from the caravan, a lone Aborigine stood as still as a statue. Naked except for a loin cloth, he carried a spear and spear-thrower. The latter instrument was used to help throw the spear further than anyone relying solely on their throwing arm could achieve. The native was covered in the white markings of his tribe. These contrasted with his black skin yet enabled him to blend in with his surroundings. He was almost invisible. Like others of his race, he was lean and sinewy. Jack guessed, rightly, that he could run all day and barely tire. Looking at his fellow prisoners, he noted none had seen the Aborigine.

  “Hey!” a sharp-eyed corporal shouted, pointing at the native. “A black fellow!”

  Next to him, a young soldier trained his musket on the native. Shooting Aborigines, while not officially sanctioned by the Army, was a favorite past-time of the soldiers. It helped relieve the boredom.

  Jack looked on with interest as the Aborigine suddenly ran off and disappeared behind a gum tree before the soldier could fire. This prompted jeers from the other soldiers. Annoyed, the young soldier galloped over to the tree where the Aborigine was last seen. To his astonishment, the native had disappeared. The soldier circled the tree twice to confirm his quarry was not there. He was mystified because the nearest cover was a good fifty paces from the tree. Finally, he gave up and rode back to rejoin the convoy where he received more ribbing from his comrades.

  Jack had heard the natives of the colony had mystical qualities. Now, he’d seen it for himself. Looking back, he suddenly saw the Aborigine reappear from behind another tree. How he’d traveled unseen from one tree to the other, Jack couldn’t fathom.

  #

  The prisoners were thirsty and sunburned by the time they reach the penal settlement of Parramatta. There, they found a pleasant surprise waiting: the settlement’s convict population included a surprising number of women – a fact that drew lewd comments from a number of Jack’s companions. To men who had been deprived of the company of women for so long, even the plainest female convict looked inviting.

  Jack took note of one comely lass whose breasts stood out like melons even at a distance. I think I’ll be liking this place. The young Cockney made a mental note to get to know the voluptuous young woman at the earliest opportunity.

  Parramatta resembled a surprisingly normal town. Despite being a penal settlement, there were significant numbers of new settlers in evidence. Their numbers almost riva
led the numbers of convicts and soldiers. Among the settlers were merchants and businessmen who ran the various stores, taverns and brothels that appeared to be in plentiful supply.

  Before disembarking from the carts, the new arrivals were issued with tin cups. They quickly assuaged their thirst, dipping the cups into buckets of drinking water which an Aboriginal waterboy carried around. On disembarking, the men received another pleasant surprise when they were addressed by Parramatta’s senior Army officer – a man who by all accounts harbored at least a smidgeon of humanity in his heart.

  “Gentlemen, I am Captain James Clarke,” the officer announced in a middle class English accent. “On my authority, those of you who toe the line can serve your time here unshackled.”

  The prisoners murmured appreciatively.

  Captain Clarke continued, “Leg irons are normally only used when convicts are assigned to duties outside Parramatta – such as working on the new road linking the settlement to Sydney Town.” He then ordered soldiers to unshackle the new arrivals.

  Looking around, Jack noted there were Army barracks and adjoining stables on the settlement’s outskirts. Red Coats were everywhere. They seemed to outnumber the convicts. Commonsense told Jack that, unshackled or not, escape from Parramatta would be short-lived. A man on foot would soon be chased down by soldiers on horseback – that is if the heat or the natives didn’t get him first.

  The new arrivals were immediately consigned to wooden barracks. After the ship’s hold that had served as their most recent home, these were comparative luxury. Jack and the others enjoyed their first bath and shave in a long time then, after discarding their worn clothes, they donned special-issue prison clothes and lined up for their first square meal in six months. Again, after enduring starvation rations aboard ship, the slops they were served here tasted like food from one of London’s finest restaurants.

  The holiday was over before it began: although it was late in the day and despite their weak condition, the new arrivals were put to work immediately alongside long-serving convicts laboring on a farm that adjoined the settlement. They were split into three groups. One group cracked rocks using pick-axes while another carried the broken rocks to a nearby mound where the third group used the rocks to construct a stone wall.

  Two armed guards watched over them on horseback. They were quick to use their riding whips on any man who lagged behind the others.

  So hot was it the waterboy continuously dispensed drinking water to the convicts from a bucket. Each convict gulped down the life-saving fluid to help assuage his thirst.

  Jack found himself working in the group constructing the wall. He quickly discovered he was working alongside convicts from all parts of Britain, and a few from elsewhere, too. There was even a black American. Some had been here, or in New South Wales at least, ten years or more. One grizzled, sunburned Scotsman called Scottie boasted he’d been here fifteen years.

  “What was your crime?” Jack enquired.

  “I stole a half-crown from my landlord, laddie,” Scottie said.

  “And you got fifteen years for that?”

  Scottie chuckled. “No, I got three years for that...and another twelve for killing the bugger when he tried to take it back from me.”

  Scottie’s long-serving companions laughed heartily even though they’d heard the same yarn many times before.

  As Jack lifted yet another rock into position on the fence, he noticed a group of Aborigines spearing fish in the shallows of the nearby Parramatta River. He noted, too, that they succeeded at almost every attempt, so skilled were they. The pile of fresh fish next to them on the river bank was growing rapidly. Nearby, Aboriginal women stoked a campfire. Some nursed babies while older children played at their feet.

  These particular Aborigines were of the Gameraigal tribe whose members were widely admired for their hunting, fishing and tracking skills. As Jack and the others would learn later, it was the latter skill that the British authorities had noted and made good use of: the Army’s Aboriginal trackers at Parramatta were primarily Gameraigal.

  #

  As dusk fell, to the relief of the new arrivals in particular a foreman appeared and advised the convicts they could finish up for the day. The convicts were immediately escorted back to their barracks.

  The new arrivals were pleasantly surprised to learn the convicts had the run of the settlement until a ship’s bell rang later in the evening. The ringing of the bell, they were advised, would announce the start of a curfew for Parramatta’s convict population.

  “Any convict found to be still out and about after the bell rings a second time will be flogged,” Scottie warned.

  Most of the new arrivals were so spent they retired early to their barracks to catch up on much-needed sleep. Jack and a few other hardy fellows took the opportunity to explore the settlement.

  While checking out the bars and brothels, Jack spied the comely lass with melon-like breasts who had caught his eye earlier. She was standing on a street corner and seemed to be waiting for someone. Jack wandered up to her and introduced himself. “Evening, Miss. I’m Jack Halliday.”

  The young woman looked him up and down. “And who da hell is Jack Halliday when he’s in town?” she shot back at him. Her lilting accent announced her Irish heritage.

  Momentarily taken aback, Jack smiled. “I’m a new guest of Her Majesty’s.”

  The woman suddenly smiled and introduced herself. “I’m Mary O’Brien,” she said. “Me friends call me Mary, but,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “ye can call me Miss O’Brien.”

  The ice broken, Jack said, “What are you doing so far from home, Miss O’Brien?” Try as he may, he couldn’t take his eyes off her magnificent breasts.

  Mary noted his interest and smiled mischievously. “If ye have a spare shilling, I can show ye what I do.”

  Jack realized Mary O’Brien was a prostitute. “I...I’ve just arrived,” he stammered. “I’m afraid I have nuthin’ to offer.”

  The young Cockney wasn’t aware that boat-loads of female convicts had been shipped out to the colony and more would follow. The logic behind this was they were needed for reproduction – to increase the population of the fledgling colony. It was inevitable some, like Mary, would be forced into prostitution. That wasn’t necessarily considered a bad thing: the availability of women for sex – even if it had to be paid for – was helping to keep the male convict population under control.

  Mary looked him up and down a second time. She liked what she saw. “Tell ye what. The first one’s on me.” Laughing, she linked her arm with his and led him to a nearby brothel where it transpired she had use of a small room.

  The young woman proved to be good at what she did and made Jack a very happy chap. Even if he’d paid her a shilling, he felt he’d have had his money’s worth. After they made love, Mary explained how the settlement worked and what he could expect while he served out his time. Jack was especially interested to learn that, despite their lowly status in life, the convicts received a weekly wage. Although meager, it was enough to buy the occasional pint of rum or to buy the likes of Mary’s skilled services.

  “Next time I see ye, it’ll cost ye,” she promised him.

  Chuckling, Jack said, “Aye and you’re worth every penny.” As he prepared to ravage her again, a bell rang out. Its chimes echoed throughout the settlement.

  Mary literally threw Jack off her. “Ye must be off now,” she ordered. “Ye’ll be flogged if ye are not back in your barracks soon.”

  Jack pulled a face. “Not even a kiss goodnight, Miss O’Brien?”

  “Get off with ye!” Laughing, Mary pushed him away.

  Jack reluctantly retired to his barracks where he fell asleep almost immediately. A second bell announced the start of the curfew. The young Cockney didn’t hear it.

  #

  The convicts were woken by the ringing of the same bell at dawn. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but to Jack and the other new arrivals it seemed the bell had only jus
t finished ringing the previous night – yet here it was already heralding the start of a new working day.

  After downing something that resembled porridge in the convicts’ mess, Jack found himself being fitted out in leg-irons and loaded onto a horse-drawn cart with nine other convicts. Half a dozen similarly laden carts joined them and they were soon bumping along the same track that had brought them to Parramatta the previous day. Ten armed guards accompanied the small caravan on horseback.

  A couple of miles down the track, the carts stopped and the convicts were issued with shovels and pick-axes. The sun rose as they commenced breaking rocks for construction of the road. It was back-breaking labor, but nothing Jack’s strong back couldn’t take. The former smithy was already looking forward to his first pay day – and to his next liaison with Mary O’Brien.

  13

  Makah Nation, West Coast, North America, 1839

  After a year as a slave of the Makah, Nathan’s lot hadn’t changed. He was still being treated as a worker ant, slaving from dawn until dusk every day, week in, week out for his masters. It was often back-breaking work and always monotonous.

  Among the more unsavory tasks he’d been allotted was digging new latrines for the village, and filling them in when they were near to overflowing. Worse was transferring the manure content of those same latrines to the fields where he had to spread it as fertilizer amongst the crops. It was smelly, degrading work that always left him in a foul mood.

  While the villagers sometimes went hungry, especially over the cold winter months, the slaves were always hungry. Those who weren’t good at scavenging for the little spare food that was available faced the very real prospect of dying. That is if the cold didn’t finish them off first. In that first year, five slaves died – three of starvation and two from exposure.

  Although Nathan’s lot hadn’t changed, his appearance had changed out of sight. Now seventeen, he was fast becoming a man: he was another inch or two taller and his shoulders had broadened; his European clothing was now hanging from him in tatters. Fortunately, it was summertime, so it wasn’t too cold. Having survived one bitter winter in this godforsaken place, the young white was prepared to put up with the relentless rain that fell over the region provided he didn’t have to go through another winter.