‘I shall have to think about it,’ he said.
‘Don’t think too long. You are my heir but if you will not accept the responsibilities you cannot expect the benefits.’
‘I shall have to think about it,’ he repeated.
‘Very well. In the meantime we have an estate to run. The annual Campbell Town show is next week. You shall represent us there,’ she said.
It made sense, he supposed. A champion merino ram was coming up for auction at the show; he’d had a word with the station agent and might put in a bid if the price looked right. To Campbell Town he would go. Judith Hargreaves was a problem for another day.
1834
It was a day of bitter wind and driving rain.
Barnsley Tregellas stood with his back to his office window and stared at Ephraim with an expression as cold and unrelenting as the icy waters of the Southern Ocean.
Through the window Ephraim could see the seething activity of the wharf. One of Barnsley’s whalers had arrived on the tide and a gang of wharf lumpers was bringing ashore the tubs of whale oil, the drays rumbling over the cobbles as they departed one by one with their loads of the liquid gold.
On the far side of the river Ephraim could see through the rain the green land stretching away to the north, offering what he had once thought would be a future of promise and fulfilment. A future that now seemed as bleak as the weather.
‘Believe me when I say I get no pleasure from this situation,’ Barnsley said. ‘I had my London agent plead for you to be given more time,’ said this man who had never pleaded for anything in his life. ‘I instructed him to tell your creditors I had every confidence you would redeem your promises. In time.’ Slowly he shook his massive head; his sigh would have fluttered the sails of every vessel in the river. ‘I regret to say they cared nothing for the promises we made on your behalf. They wanted one of two things: the immediate payment of the returns on their investment that it appears you promised them before leaving London, or a refund of their capital. Immediately, Captain Dark, and in full. They were talking law courts, Captain. They were talking debtors’ prison. Or worse, Captain Dark. There was even a whisper of fraud.’
Barnsley crossed to his desk, a weighty man burdened by the sad news it was his unsought duty to deliver. He picked up his glass containing a special Madeira wine, dry and vastly flavoursome, vastly expensive. He had offered none to his visitor. He savoured the wine with every sign of enjoyment, sipping it slowly, taking his time, while his eyes observed Ephraim’s ashen face.
He had been in this situation many times yet it never failed to give him exquisite pleasure: the awareness of his power and its fulfilment, the accumulation of the wealth that was the purpose of his life.
‘Things would have come good. In time.’ Ephraim spoke through dry lips. ‘They would have received the returns I promised them.’
No more than the London venturers was Barnsley interested in Ephraim’s promises. He put down his glass and sat behind his desk. He spoke briskly.
‘I have responsibilities: to my niece, you understand, and to my nephew William. I am unwilling to see them put out into the street because of your business failures.’
Ephraim tried to defend himself. ‘The whaling ship you sold me was unsound. Had it been in better shape –’
Barnsley was also uninterested in Ephraim’s excuses. ‘You bought the ship, did you not? She became your responsibility. That is clear, I think. In any case that represents a relatively minor part of what you have lost. To set out to develop a new port and infrastructure…’ He shook his head. ‘Insanity, Captain. Utter insanity. To protect my niece I have bought your creditors’ paper. Now your debts in London are settled.’
‘You mean I now owe you,’ Ephraim said.
‘No, Captain, you owe the bank.’
‘Isn’t that the same thing?’
‘Not at all the same thing. The bank has its own venturers. They have invested their money in the business and naturally look to enjoy a satisfactory return. We businessmen,’ he said with a heavy humour that left his eyes as hard and cold as ever, ‘are slaves to our investors, are we not?’
‘If you have the faith in me that you say you told the London investors –’
‘You owe the bank two hundred thousand pounds,’ Barnsley said. ‘My investors need to know how you intend to repay them. Not in five or ten years’ time. Now. I am sure you understand that if you are unable to meet their just demands your assets will be seized. I have – most regrettably, Captain! – already arranged to have your trading fleet impounded.’
The hair was prickling on the back of Ephraim’s neck. ‘You plan to take Derwent as well?’
‘Indeed. And the extravagant house I am informed you have had built there. It grieves me to be the bearer of such bad news,’ Barnsley said, ‘but I have always found it best to face facts, however unpalatable they may be.’
Ephraim rode slowly home, barely conscious of the rain soaking through his clothes. Inwardly he was raging over the banker’s barely concealed contempt. Settle up now – in full – or face ruin. Dear sweet Christ, he thought, I am bankrupt. What do I do now?
There are fortunes to be made in Van Diemen’s Land.
London’s eager investors, thirsty for profit, had believed him; he had believed himself. He refused to accept he had been foolish or even reckless; he had been confident that his prophecies would come true.
As he remained convinced that, with time, they would have done.
It was a bitter thought because Barnsley Tregellas had made it clear it was too late. For the moment Ephraim might still own Derwent, the sheep and a whale ship, a small fleet of trading vessels, a large area of forest and a partially developed port at Emu Bay on the north coast, even a half-constructed sawmill – all of them assets that in other circumstances would have enabled him to build up the great fortune that was his heart’s desire – but his debts had swallowed him up. The one essential commodity that he lacked was time and that had destroyed him.
He looked at the house as he came over the rise. The rain had stopped and the sun’s rays were warm on the grey walls standing amid the trees with the river flowing beyond. Their home.
For how much longer?
He trotted down the slope, the bay lengthening her stride as she neared the stable block behind the house and the oats she sensed would be awaiting her. The groom Abraham was waiting to take the mare as Ephraim dismounted. His horse; his groom.
For how much longer?
Emma had heard the sound of the hooves and had come to the door to greet him as she always did. Baby William was in her arms with shy Richard hanging back behind her. He greeted the baby and shook Richard’s hand as though he were a man and not a six-year-old boy.
Emma was wearing a day gown that was one of his favourites, her hair loose and shining in the sun. She smiled at him with lively eyes, greeting him with the warmth that never failed to move his heart. Yet her happiness at seeing him was not mindless; she leant back in his arms and looked at him questioningly.
‘Something has happened,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘Let us go indoors,’ he said.
It was a bad business having to tell Emma that after all his big talk their hopes and dreams had come to nothing and that he could see no way out of their predicament. It was even worse having to suggest she might intercede with her uncle on their behalf.
‘If he is not prepared to be merciful I fear there is no hope for us.’
Her expression had not changed as she listened to him. He had been watching her as he spoke, fearing to see contempt in her face but observing only a form of beauty he had never previously known: a strength and resolution to ride out whatever darkness might be lying ahead of them.
‘We both know him,’ she said. ‘I do not believe mercy is in his nature. On the contrary; I suspect he planned this deliberately. Two hundred thousand pounds? He knows we have no hope of repaying such a sum. We have known for a long time that the wha
le ship he sold you was no good.’
‘That is only a small part of the problem. I confess I should have been more careful but I never thought he would turn on us like this: I trusted him, you see.’
‘And he cheated you. As I hear from Lady Arthur he has cheated many others. It seems he has a name for it. It is he who should be ashamed, not you.’
‘I do not know whether he cheated us or simply outsmarted us. What is certain is that we are at his mercy.’
‘And my uncle is not a merciful man.’
‘You see no point in speaking to him?’
‘Certainly I would like to speak to him. In a practical sense there is no point; he will still take the land and house and everything we possess. I believe that has always been his objective and there is nothing we can do to stop him. But it would do me a deal of pleasure to give him a piece of my mind.’
She laughed: angry, defiant and – yes! – joyous.
Ephraim stared. He had feared anger, contempt, tears… Never this. Yet this was the woman who had challenged Lady Raedwald and won. Now, to see her laugh in the face of adversity…
He thought he had never truly appreciated his wife before.
She saw his expression and laughed even more. ‘I love challenge,’ she said.
‘But what shall we do? After you’ve told your uncle what you think of him?’
‘You still have Ocean Rider?’
Ocean Rider was one of his fleet, a forty-foot sloop Ephraim had bought when he planned to bring Kanaka labour from the islands to work as shepherds on their land. Barnsley might have impounded his other vessels but Ocean Rider had not been with them and with any luck would for the moment have escaped the banker’s attention. That at least was something he might be able to sell.
‘Yes, we still have her. I know a man who might be willing to give us a good price for her –’
‘Don’t sell her,’ Emma said. ‘Not for any price. Where is she?’
‘In an inlet off the harbour.’
‘Is there anyone aboard?’
‘There’s Bailey. A good man. Very experienced. I took him on when I bought the boat. He knows Ocean Rider and the sea.’
‘Can we trust him?’
‘With our lives, I believe,’ Ephraim said.
‘Will the two of you be enough to sail her?’
‘I could manage her alone if I had to but it’s easier with two. But what –?’
She did not let him finish his question. ‘We must move her before Uncle can get his hands on her. Move her tonight as soon as it’s dark. Find somewhere to leave her and then come back.’
‘What are you planning to do?’ he said.
‘I’ll tell you.’
Emma believed she had been touched by holiness.
This was the reason providence had brought her across the sea to this island and reunited her with the man she loved: that when the need arose the power within her would guide her in the direction she must go, do what must be done.
‘We have talked so much about the unknown lands that lie in the tropics far away to the north of the settled areas,’ she said.
Ephraim stared. ‘What about them?’
‘What better time could we have to seek out the unknown?’ Emma said.
Ephraim’s heart leapt at his wife’s audacity, then fell back.
‘Impossible.’
‘Why?’
‘I cannot take you and the children on such a dangerous mission but I would not feel right leaving you behind.’
‘I have no intention of being left behind,’ Emma said. ‘Or of leaving the children.’
‘But –’
‘We are one family, Ephraim. You, me and our two sons. We go or stay together and we obviously cannot stay. We shall explore the north side by side.’
‘It will not be safe,’ Ephraim said.
‘Life is not safe. We both know that. Life is for living. We shall live it together.’
‘Or perhaps die together?’
‘If God so wills.’
He had been afraid Barnsley might move on them straightaway but by the time he left the house that evening they had seen nothing of him or his men.
He decided it would be best to go by foot so he followed the riverbank. It was dark but the water shone in the starlight and there was no danger of losing his footing. Now he no longer felt so helpless his old injury was troubling him less than it had, so he made good time.
Ocean Rider was moored well away from the harbour’s main traffic, in a deepwater inlet overhung by trees that grew close to the bank. It was dark, the sloop barely visible in the shadows, and the air was still.
Ephraim stood at the edge of the water and gave a soft whistle: three notes rising and then descending. He waited. There was no light from Ocean Rider, no sign of movement, but a few seconds later Ephraim heard an answering whistle in the same cadence.
‘Coming aboard,’ Ephraim said in a soft voice – sounds travelled far across water.
He drew in the mooring line. The water rippled about the bow as the sloop glided towards the land.
Ephraim stepped aboard.
Bailey was a short man with massive shoulders and arms and a large head. Ephraim had found him wandering the waterfront after his vessel had been lost in a storm, cast upon the rocks at the southern end of the D’Entrecasteaux Channel. He had been looking for a captain’s berth and would take nothing less. He’d had no luck until Ephraim had seen him, liked the look of him and taken him on. To be master of a forty-foot sloop was a comedown after a two-masted brig but as he said to Ephraim it was a ship and a neat one at that and he was in charge. And maybe one day they would go adventuring.
A man with a mysterious past, he must have had a first name but Ephraim did not know it. Bailey he was and Bailey he would remain. Like the man himself, it would serve. Now he stared at Ephraim in the darkness.
‘Something up, Captain?’
‘You always said you wanted to go adventuring,’ Ephraim said. ‘Now you may get your wish.’
‘Visiting Poseidon at last?’ The seaman rubbed exultant hands. ‘Good news, Captain. Excellent news.’
‘Let’s hope it’s not Davey Jones,’ Ephraim said.
‘Up to us to make sure it isn’t. No, Captain, there’ll be no drowning this trip. It’s Poseidon we’ll be seeing. God of the sea, Captain! He saved me before and I owe him a visit. We’ve kept him waiting long enough. Where are we headed? Into the Pacific?’
‘We’re going north. See what the country up there has to offer.’
‘Into the unknown? Even better! Makes my blood run hot, Captain. Maybe build ourselves an empire up there?’
‘Maybe we shall.’
They went below into the cabin. Bailey lit the gimballed lantern. Ephraim looked about him in the smoky light. A tidy bunk was inset into the port side of the cabin; the wooden bulkheads glowed with polish; a chart table had navigation instruments secured neatly in a cabinet mounted behind it.
‘When shall we be leaving?’ Bailey asked.
‘Soon as we can get away.’
‘And you come a-calling after dark? My nose tells me something’s up, Captain. Want to tell me what it is?’
Ephraim explained about Barnsley Tregellas and the money he was claiming.
Bailey nodded. ‘Sounds a good reason to be moving on,’ he said. ‘I say let the bastard stew for his money, isn’t that right?’
He opened a locker, took out a bottle of rum and two mugs and poured a generous tot into each. He lifted his mug.
‘Here’s to a prosperous voyage and damnation to all bankers,’ he said.
They drank.
‘So what’s the plan, Captain?’
‘The tide’s nearly full. When the ebb starts we’ll make our way downriver, find a place to lie up for a couple of days while we stock her with provisions, then head north.’
‘Just you and me, Captain?’
‘Plus Mrs Dark and the two boys.’
Bailey’s heavy fing
ers played with his mug. ‘Some think a woman aboard is bad luck, Captain. And people say it’s wild country up there.’
Their eyes met.
‘No choice,’ Ephraim said.
‘Whatever you say.’ Bailey laughed and refreshed their mugs. ‘What I’ve read, Poseidon was powerfully attracted to the ladies so I daresay it’ll be all right.’
The hull of the sloop stirred beneath them.
‘There’s the ebb,’ Bailey said. ‘Best get under way.’
It took no time to hoist sail and cast off. Within minutes they were heading out into the main channel. The wind was from the north; with sails boomed out and the ebb strong beneath their keel they were soon making good time.
‘Wind and tide with us,’ Bailey exulted, his whisper like the rumble of chain in the anchor locker. ‘We’ll soon be clear of this lot.’
The channel ran close to the ships in the harbour. Ocean Rider ghosted silently past the anchored vessels, the only sound the chuckle of water around the forefoot. This was the dangerous time; some of these ships were owned by Barnsley Tregellas and Ephraim knew if they were going to be challenged it would be here, but there was no challenge and soon the scattered lights of Hobart Town had faded into the distance astern.
An hour downriver they found a narrow waterway overhung with trees on the river’s western bank. They lowered the mainsail as Bailey changed course. Under foresail alone they entered the inlet, the mast brushing leaves from the trees as they passed. Ephraim plumbed the depths continuously as Bailey conned the sloop further into the narrowing inlet. Soon they were deep enough for the trees to hide them from any traffic passing along the river. Bailey eased the jib.
‘Best go no further,’ he said. ‘We’ll be running out of water directly.’
They drew into the bank and Ephraim went ashore.
‘I’ll be back with supplies tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Or maybe the day after.’
‘How will you get them here?’
‘Mules should do it,’ Ephraim said.
‘And the family?’
‘Mules should do it,’ Ephraim said.
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