Claim the Kingdom

by John Fletcher

  Reilly’s heavy figure was waiting as they stepped on to the deck.

  ‘Good morning to you, Captain.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Reilly,’ Gough said. He rubbed his hands and looked about him. The deck was clean. The rigging was taut and looked new. ‘Captain Pike about yet?’

  ‘In his cabin. I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  They waited, not speaking, until Reilly returned.

  ‘This way, gents. If you please.’

  They followed him towards the stern. They reached the closed door to the captain’s cabin and Reilly knocked.

  Pike’s voice came through the woodwork. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Captain Tremain and his son, sir.’

  ‘Show them in.’

  *

  Jack had lain all night with open eyes, watching the darkness and listening to the steady sound of Cash’s breathing on the other side of the room. He was so sunk in depression that the dawn, when at last it came, seemed scarcely lighter than the darkness that had preceded it.

  Pain was a flower that blossomed in the darkness.

  There was a series of pictures in his mind. Gwen standing on the deck of the transport, smiling up at him as the wind lifted the dark hair from her forehead and flattened the dress against her body. Gwen spitting like a cat at his caution, accusing him of being less than a man. Gwen’s body, soft and ardent beneath the shabby clothes, her breath indrawn as his hand travelled over her.

  A girl with no education, no future. She had had faith in him. A quiet girl, gentle, talking always of a home of her own. Simple things. Good things. A girl to be trusted, whose love, God willing, would cure him.

  A girl, it seemed, not like that at all.

  He had tried to help her and her brother. The man she had called her brother. He had put his head into the noose for her; Cash’s, too.

  How she must have laughed.

  He had spoken of marriage, understanding the difficulties but wanting it, nonetheless. She had seemed to hesitate.

  Are you putting a price on it?

  Asking her if her brother’s freedom was her price.

  No, she had said, yet she had put a price on it when she realised how besotted with her he was.

  Tes for brother I be askin’.

  She had been quick enough to turn on him when he hesitated.

  I thought you was a man.

  Bitterness circulated with his blood. Resentment and self-contempt went round and around in his mind while the sky lightened slowly beyond the window and another day came seeping from behind the distant hills.

  He had heard Cash go out half an hour earlier but had feigned sleep, not wanting to talk. Now he rose and went out, too, carrying his blackness into the half-light of the early morning.

  *

  Pike’s cabin was large and better appointed than Gough had expected. It smelt of salt water and tarred rope but the light streaming through the wide stern windows lay upon quality fittings of brass and copper and mahogany. Everything was neat and in its place.

  Silas Pike was seated at a table in the middle of the cabin. Despite the early hour he was clean shaven and looked as tough and alert as always. He stood up as Reilly closed the door behind them.

  ‘You make an early start, Captain Tremain.’

  Gough nodded. ‘So do you, it seems.’

  The seaman shrugged. ‘Own your own vessel, you never sleep.’ The grey eyes focused on Cash. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met.’

  Cash found his hand gripped firmly by a man who knew his own strength and did not have to crush fingers to prove it.

  ‘Sit.’ Pike indicated two chairs facing the table. ‘When I saw you put out from the jetty I ordered some chocolate. Can I offer you some?’

  ‘That will be very acceptable.’ Gough’s face creased as he grinned. ‘You keep a good lookout, Captain.’

  ‘I find it pays.’

  Pike poured the chocolate in a fragrant stream into small china cups.

  Good porcelain, Gough noted, and the pot was silver.

  Pike saw his glance. ‘You’ll find Centaur as tough and seaworthy as any ship afloat. Including navy ships. That doesn’t mean we have to live like pigs.’

  He sat facing them, long legs thrust out, the cup of chocolate almost lost in his massive fist.

  Gough drank. ‘Good chocolate.’

  ‘The best.’ A statement, not a boast. Pike put his cup down. ‘What can I do for you, gentlemen?’

  ‘I have a cargo for you,’ Gough said.

  Pike stared at him, face expressionless.

  ‘You’re not interested?’

  ‘Let me be honest with you, Captain Tremain. I am always hearing talk of cargoes but nothing ever comes of it. I’m beginning to think there’s no cargo to be had.’

  ‘This time there is.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before, too.’

  Gough’s dark eyes measured him. ‘We don’t know each other, Captain, so I’ll forgive that remark. But understand this, I wouldn’t tell you I had a cargo if I hadn’t.’

  ‘I’d be glad to believe you. You’re not the first person who’s told me as much. The fact remains, when it comes to the point I still hear nothing.’

  ‘You won’t either. Not from anyone you’ve spoken to before today.’

  ‘You’re saying you’re different?’ Impossible to tell whether or not there was sarcasm behind the flat question.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Bellona arrived yesterday with dispatches from London.’

  A flicker of impatience. ‘I was at the reception. I know about the land grants.’

  ‘But not about the rest of the Home Secretary’s orders.’

  ‘Which were?’

  ‘A total prohibition on trading by all members of the New South Wales Corps. Effective immediately.’

  Pike stood abruptly. He walked to the big stern windows and stared through them at the water.

  Prohibition, he thought. Where does that leave me?

  The sun had risen and the ripples reflected dancing shafts of yellow light upon the ceiling of the cabin. The hull swayed gently beneath his feet and he could hear the wavelets lapping along the planking.

  ‘How do you know this?’ he said over his shoulder.

  Cash was wondering the same thing. It’s a bluff, he thought. It can’t be true. Mustn’t be true. If it is, what are we doing here?

  Tremain grinned at Pike’s back. ‘Friends in the right places.’

  Pike turned and stalked scowling back to the table. ‘Don’t play games with me, Captain.’

  Gough leant back in his chair and smiled up at him. ‘I have a friend at the Home Office. He sent me a letter telling me what orders Henry Dundas has given to the governor.’

  Pike watched him narrowly. ‘The governor said nothing last night about any other orders.’

  ‘He wouldn’t want to spoil the evening, would he?’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘To introduce you to my son.’

  Pike’s eyes flickered to Cash’s face and then back to Tremain. ‘You mean …?’

  ‘Cash is not with the New South Wales Corps, Captain.’

  Cash listened, trying to remain impassive. I don’t believe what I’m hearing, he thought.

  Pike smiled and sat down again. His chair creaked beneath his weight.

  ‘You’re suggesting I should deal with Cash rather than yourself?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I know your son even less than I know you, Captain Tremain.’ He pondered, fingers stroking his chin. His eyes stabbed at Cash. ‘What do you say about all this?’

  Cash took a breath, trying to rally his thoughts.

  ‘I say it makes sense for all of us. You get a cargo. We both get the business. And my father keeps on the right side of the governor.’

  ‘So you agree with what your father says?’

  ‘Of course I agree. It makes sense.’

  ‘You think you can handle it? And me?�
�

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Without experience?’

  ‘No one starts with experience. I have access to advice.’

  Pike’s eyes probed his for a few moments longer, then looked back at Gough. ‘What is the cargo?’

  ‘Three thousand feet of cedar wood. Two and a half thousand sealskins.’

  ‘Sealskins?’ Pike frowned.

  ‘The southern waters are full of seals. Whales, too.’

  ‘Where am I supposed to sell them?’

  ‘Where would you suggest, Captain?’

  ‘If I take them to the Cape they’ll fetch half their value but if I go to England the East India Company will impound my vessel.’

  ‘There’s a ready market for cedar at the Cape,’ Gough said. ‘I suggest you sail to the Cape, sell the cargo for what you can get and come back, quick as you can, with farming implements and seed. Now the land grants are through, there’ll be pressure to develop farms as quickly as possible. There’ll be a huge market for every kind of farming stock and supplies. But time is all-important. The first ship back will skim off the cream, so let’s be sure it’s us. By the time you get back we’ll have a full cargo of skins and oil ready for you to take to London.’ Gough grinned and stretched. ‘Take on the East India Company, by heavens. Why not? Tes long overdue.’

  ‘Let’s be clear what we’re talking about,’ Pike said. ‘Are you selling me the goods or what?’

  Gough shook his head. ‘We want to charter your vessel, Captain. You take our goods to the Cape, sell them there and come back with farming supplies for our account. Normal East Asian charter rates. By the time you get back we’ll have a full cargo of skins and oil for you.’

  ‘If the Company catches up with me I lose my ship.’

  ‘You take that risk every time you stick your nose out of harbour.’

  ‘If the colony charters me, there’s no risk.’

  Gough shook his head. ‘Private charter.’

  ‘East Asia rates plus ten per cent, then. This voyage and the return. Too much risk for anything less. Twenty-five per cent on the top if I go to London.’

  ‘Five per cent to the Cape plus two per cent of the profit over twenty thousand pounds. Return trip, five per cent of all profits, no charter fee. Finish this voyage first, then we’ll talk about London.’

  The two men stared at each other.

  ‘You say the Home Secretary has banned Corps officers from trade. You sure about that?’

  Gough’s eyes narrowed. ‘Something else you should know about me – I’m no liar.’

  Pike grinned, unconcerned. ‘Just repeating what you said, Captain.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘You’ll trust me to take your cargo to the Cape? You don’t know me.’

  ‘I’ve seen your ship.’

  ‘Ah.’ He shot Gough a keen look. ‘I’ve some cargo of my own on board.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘You’re just back from the Pacific islands. It’s common sense you bought more than a hold full of vegetables while you were there!’

  Pike’s grey eyes measured him. ‘You’ve not asked what space I’ve got available.’

  ‘That’s none of my concern. I pay only for the volume I ship. But coming back, nothing for yourself. Nothing for anyone else. A joint venture, pure and simple. Agreed?’

  ‘Farming goods?’

  ‘And rum. There’s always a market for that.’

  ‘I could cheat you.’

  ‘But you won’t.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Because you’re not a fool. This trip’s only the start, Captain. There’ll be plenty of profit. Enough for both of us. No need for either of us to cheat.’

  ‘You and me, eh?’

  ‘You and Cash,’ Gough corrected him. ‘Tes nothing to do with me. I’m out of it.’

  Pike looked into space. His lips worked as he thought it through. His face cleared. He turned to Cash and grinned. ‘Seeing as it’s nothing to do with your dad …’ He put out his hand. ‘Reckon we got a deal.’

  *

  As Jack came out of the house a pair of large birds perched on the dead branch of a tree burst into a shrieking chorus, necks and beaks stretched to the sky.

  Apart from the birds, all was still. The air was fresh, there was a hint of dew on the grass and down at the cove the lights along the jetties glimmered smokily in the gathering light. He turned his back on the settlement and climbed the slope behind the cottages.

  From the ridge, the ground stretched away to the distant line of blue hills. It was an enigmatic land. The light flowed through the trees, their leaves hanging motionless before the advent of the dawn. He could see no paths, no glades, no break in the endless vista. Even in the trees themselves there was no variety. Each had the same long, grey, pointed leaves, with bark hanging like paper from the trunks to reveal wood as bare and white as bones. There was no sound, no hint of movement. There were people and animals out there, yet the secretive land admitted to neither. Over everything hung an immense and brooding stillness.

  The Reverend Pearse had told Jack of escapees who had gone out into that wilderness and vanished, absorbed by the land. Some had died – bones had been found. Some had returned, telling of being lost in the bush where the awful sameness was like a cloak hiding the light. Yet the possibility existed, unlikely though it was, that some escapees had found themselves a refuge of some sort, far from the gallows and the whipping triangle.

  The chaplain had said that some of the convicts believed it was only a short stroll from Port Jackson to China. Others were enticed by rumours of a magical land, close at hand, where the inhabitants lived in ease, without care or the need to work.

  Now that would be a kingdom worth claiming, Jack thought, remembering his father’s words the previous evening.

  He might stay on in the colony; he might not. For the moment he did not care either way. The future was devoid of hope, the world a solitude of betrayal and despair.

  He stood beside one of the trees, his hand on its smooth bark.

  Gwen’s smile, lighting up her face, her eyes, and behind it …

  She used to take the marks back to their room. If the jury hadn’t been so jelly-livered, they would have hanged …

  Hanged …

  HANGED.

  The harsh laughter of the birds fractured the stillness of the morning.

  She gulled you, by heavens.

  Fury surged like blood. He raised his fist, knuckles cocked, and smashed it into the unyielding trunk of the tree.

  SIX

  Jonathan Hagwood woke at six.

  For a few moments he lay still, feeling the world come back around him. At his side, Elizabeth’s breathing was a peaceful counterpoint to the noises of the new day that was beginning to stir outside the glazed window of the bedroom. A faint clamour of gulls came from the cove. The harsh cackle of the kookaburras heralded the light.

  He got out of bed, moving carefully so as not to disturb his wife, and went to the window. A faint apricot blush was forming above the eastern hills. In the harbour dark currents ran like sinews beneath the surface of the water. A small boat was putting out from the beach, two figures huddled in the stern as the boatman pulled steadily on the oars.

  Jonathan wiped moisture from the window but in the poor light could not make out who the passengers were. He fetched a glass and focused it on the skiff. It appeared to be heading for one or other of the tall ships anchored out in the cove. His fingers adjusted the focus. The two men had their backs to the shore but their build and long black hair made them unmistakable.

  Jonathan snapped the glass shut and stood for a moment, fingers tap-tapping softly on the windowsill. Gough Tremain and one of his sons. Where were they headed so early in the morning?

  He watched as the boat came alongside Centaur and the two men climbed aboard. His cold eyes brooded. What business did they have with Silas Pike at this hour?

  He shrugged irritably and t
urned away from the window. He would find out soon enough. All the same, it might not be a bad idea to have someone on board Centaur to keep him informed of what was happening. He would arrange it today.

  He went over to the bed. His wife was still asleep. He looked down at her for a few minutes. Her face was flushed with sleep and a tendril of dark hair lay across the pillow. She looked no more than sixteen. Suddenly Jonathan was filled with a great tenderness for her. She was the enduring miracle of his life.

  At times like this, free from the passions that dominated him, he knew himself for what he was – able, ambitious, arrogant, petty, ruthless, unscrupulous, wedded irrevocably to power, wealth and position. With Elizabeth, he was a child new-born, all evil expunged, all virtue attainable through the power of his love for her. At such times, he could even believe that she loved him as whole-heartedly in return.

  The mood could not last, of course. He was as he was: virtues and vices combined. The normal world of avarice and combat waited outside the closed door of the bedroom but such moments of quiet communion refreshed and re-energised him and he loved her for them, too, as he loved her for everything in their life together.

  The kookaburras shrieked again. The light through the window was fractionally brighter now. He put his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.

  Her eyes opened, focused. She smiled.

  ‘I ordered the boat for seven,’ he said. ‘We need to be getting ready.’

  ‘What time is it now?’

  ‘A little after six.’

  ‘Plenty of time.’ She made to get out of bed, then looked at him. ‘What do we do about Rosina?’

  She was manipulating him, of course, but she had a point. Someone had to look after the children while they were away. Besides, after the way he had felt for her, only seconds ago, he could deny her nothing.

  ‘Perhaps we could give her a second chance,’ he said. ‘Since you wish it so much.’ Then, feeling his authority somewhat diminished by compassion, he said severely, ‘Warn her, though. Any repetition …’

  She smiled up at him, showing compassion in her turn. ‘I’ll tell her.’ And kissed him swiftly.

  *