Eagle on the Hill

by JH Fletcher

  ‘I’ll see ’em in hell first.’ Charlie’s face was as tight as a safe.

  ‘But if the bank’s gunna take it anyway —’

  ‘For a thousand quid?’ Charlie said. He bared his teeth, feeling the defiant blood rising in his veins. ‘I’ll find it, don’ you worry. I’m not done yet.’

  Two days later, a pair of men sat in the back room of the Niland pub. No-one else was in the room, yet they sat with heads together and spoke softly; even the shadows could spy on you in this business.

  Samuel McKinley studied the man on the other side of the table. ‘I’d like to help, Charlie, but I reckon you may be too late.’

  ‘I won’t waste your time, then.’ Charlie stood up.

  ‘’old your ’orses! I said maybe, nuthun definite, like. But you’ll have to drop your price a bit.’

  ‘A thousand quid,’ Charlie said. ‘Not a penny less.’

  ‘Makes it hard,’ McKinley said. ‘But you always was a hard bastard. What did I tell you? Never say never. Quite a change o’ tune, all the same. I won’t deny I thought I’d lost you.’ He watched Charlie with an open, deceiving smile. ‘After all these years … What made you change your mind?’

  ‘Never mind that. Tell me if it’s a goer or not.’

  ‘Two trips in the New Year.’

  ‘One.’

  ‘For a thousand quid? Don’ ask much, do you? Dunno if I can manage it, I’ll tell you straight.’

  ‘A thousand or nuthun.’

  ‘’ard bastard,’ said McKinley, one hard bastard to another. He whistled to himself while his fingers tapped thoughtfully on the arm of his chair.

  ‘Yes or no?’ Charlie said.

  ‘One trip, double cargo.’

  It meant double the time to unload, which made the operation even more dangerous. But for a thousand pounds …

  ‘Right,’ Charlie said. ‘One trip, double cargo, a thousand quid.’

  ‘You’re on,’ McKinley said. ‘Behind the island tomorrow evening. A Christmas run. We’ll load you there.’ He stood up and slapped Charlie on the shoulder with a brawny hand. ‘It’ll be like old times.’

  Although, as always, neither Samuel nor his brother would be there.

  Charlie said nothing. They parted and he went back to Brenda.

  He thought Sarah would skin him alive when she heard. She didn’t, but was bitterly disappointed. ‘You gave me your word, Charlie …’

  He had. But never say never.

  ‘We don’ ’ave no choice. It’s the only way I can get the money and let you keep the land.’

  ‘That wretched land!’ She could have spat at it and the sentimental impulse that had made her want it. If she’d known … But no-one ever knows.

  ‘We should have offered it to the Grenvilles first. Maybe they’d have agreed.’

  ‘Can’t you get it through your head that the Grenvilles are behind the whole thing? That’s why they’re doin’ it! I want nuthun more to do with ’em. The same goes for that boy. You’d best warn Alex.’

  ‘Martin’s had no part in this.’

  ‘He’s a Grenville. That’s enough.’

  ‘I told you before, that’s not fair!’

  ‘What do the Grenvilles know about fair?’

  It was a futile argument. Sarah’s lip curled. ‘I won’t say a word. Tell her yourself, if that’s how you feel about it.’

  ‘Don’ think I won’t!’ He was mad about the situation, and about having to break his promise to Sarah after all this time. He went storming off to Alex’s cabin.

  ‘See what your mates have done!’ He thrust the bank manager’s letter at Alex.

  She read it, then looked at him uncertainly. ‘We owe the bank money?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have we got it?’

  ‘Only if we sell everything. Your mother’s land, Brenda —’

  ‘But Brenda’s our home!’

  ‘Exactly what your mother said.’

  It was horrible. She could understand his being upset; she was upset herself. But why blame her?

  Then she remembered his words. See what your mates have done! And understood.

  ‘You think Martin’s father’s behind this?’

  ‘Darn right he is. His name’s on the letterhead.’

  ‘It’s not Martin’s fault, though.’

  ‘He’s a Grenville. That’s enough.’

  ‘That’s unfair!’

  Also her mother’s words. It was unfair, but so was life.

  ‘I don’ want you havin’ anythin’ to do with him. Orright?’

  It was far from all right. ‘I’ll see him if I want to.’

  Her defiance startled them both. Charlie’s anger turned cold and hard, more frightening that the hot rage that had preceded it.

  ‘You’ll do what I say!’

  ‘No, I won’t!’

  Charlie’s rage turned the green world of river and trees to desert. Never in his life had he laid a hand on Alex but there was always a first time. His fists clenched before this slip of a girl who was defying him. And whom he loved.

  Rage warred with love and love won. He took a deep breath and relaxed his hands. He was forty-three years old and felt a hundred.

  ‘We’ll leave it for now,’ he said wearily. ‘We’ll talk again later.’

  She could have asked him so many things. Can we find the money? What will we do if we can’t? Will this mean I can’t go back to school? Even one question would have healed the rift between them because it would have shown she cared, but Charlie’s fury had dried up all her sympathy. Her feelings for Martin were as strong as life itself and could not be put aside.

  ‘Talk all you like,’ she said. ‘I shan’t change my mind.’

  Charlie’s head came up, his jaw jutted aggressively, but Alex was gone.

  Not that there was anywhere to hide on a paddle steamer. When she was small she’d managed it, but that was long ago.

  When tea was ready they sat in the saloon and avoided each other’s eyes, the atmosphere as heavy as stone. Only when the silence had tightened to screaming point did Alex speak, and then coldly.

  ‘Can we raise the money?’ It was like a lawyer speaking.

  ‘I’ll find it,’ Charlie said, chewing. ‘Don’ you worry about that.’

  ‘Your dad’s gunna work for McKinley,’ Sarah told the air.

  Charlie looked at her. ‘Do you know another way?’

  ‘I’ve told you what I’d do.’

  ‘I never want to hear that name again.’

  There were flames in Alex’s eyes. ‘What name is that, Dad?’

  He looked at her. ‘Leave it.’

  Alex put down her knife and fork and stood up. ‘I’m going ashore.’

  ‘You’re goin’ nowhere,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Charlie …’ Sarah put her hand on his sleeve. She turned to Alex, standing post-stiff. ‘Alex, sit down and get on with your tea.’

  There were tears in Alex’s eyes, but she shook her head stubbornly, saying nothing.

  ‘Clear her plate,’ said Charlie. ‘If she don’ want our food, so be it. Cheaper that way.’

  ‘A great Christmas this is going to be!’ Alex cried, tears coming in earnest now. ‘You know Martin’s got nothing to do with this. But you’ll take it out on him, and me, because you won’t face up to the ones who are really to blame.’

  Her father chewed, slowly and deliberately, until his mouth was empty, then took some more. He said nothing, looked at nothing.

  ‘You’re impossible!’ Alex hurled the words at him, then turned and ran from the saloon. A moment later the hull rocked as she leapt ashore. They heard the diminishing sound of her feet as she ran down the wharf.

  Now Sarah was truly frightened. ‘Charlie …’

  ‘She’s gotta decide where her loyalties lie.’ Charlie’s voice was low yet resolute. ‘She’ll be back soon, when she’s calmed down a bit.’

  But she was not. Slowly it grew dark. Charlie was not much of a reader but
now sat with his nose in a book, seemingly without a thought for his missing child. Without turning the pages, either. Sarah fidgeted, watching him with eyes full of challenge, and still he did not move or speak.

  Finally she could bear it no longer.

  ‘Are you goin’ to look for her?’

  ‘She knows where to find us.’ Deliberately he turned the page. ‘She’ll come home when she’s ready.’

  ‘This town is no place for a girl at night,’ Sarah said.

  Still she watched him but Charlie did not move. Eventually she sighed like a gale and stood. ‘I’m gunna look for her. I still care for her, even if you don’t.’

  ‘Leave it!’

  ‘I shall do no such thing.’

  She fetched her bonnet and shawl and put them on, mouth and eyes angry, and climbed over the gunwale and onto the wharf.

  Charlie, alone in the saloon, bunched his fist and brought it crashing down on the table. There was pain as well as anger in the blow. Because Charlie was lonely for the world of daughter and wife, the round bead of contentment that had so recently enclosed them. Only now, when it was gone, did he see it for what it was: the wholeness and perfection of life. Now the river had become a desert, indeed.

  Along the bulkheads, the Christmas tinsel quivered in a gust of wind through the saloon’s open door.

  * * *

  Standing on the wharf, Sarah stared anxiously in both directions but could see no sign of movement. Behind her the saloon lamp cast rectangles of golden light on the wooden planks. The river sighed among the wharf’s piles; she thought of ropes of weed and bodies buried in the watery darkness. She wanted to flee the thought but knew it would go with her, stampeding the breath in her lungs, the blood in her veins, and for a moment did not move.

  Instead she took a succession of deep breaths. Clearly it was to be a night of battles: against husband, daughter and the stubbornness that would neither bend nor feel any hurt but its own. She would fight them all and win, because she was in the right, and knew it, while Charlie and Alex were in the wrong, and also knew it.

  Bonnet as straight as a policeman’s helmet on her head, she set off down the wharf. She had no idea where she was going. She passed two other boats lying alongside. Their names meant nothing to her; nowadays there were too many steamers to know them all. No lights showed on either vessel; the crews were either asleep or ashore. She could see no-one on the wharf or in the street beyond, but on one corner a pub spilt light and a bellow of raucous voices through its open doorway.

  She looked at the lights and smelt the beery air. She could not go in there. She was sure Alex would not have gone in either, yet the light and yelling voices gave form to the fears that had been swelling inside her since Alex had run ashore. She walked past.

  The streets were dark. Side alleys, garbage-stinking, disappeared into darkness, each representing a threat.

  Terror had her by the throat. Alex could be anywhere. Nightmare images tormented her.

  Where are you, girl? I’ll kill you myself when I find you, for frightening me like this.

  She walked on, not knowing where to go but not giving up, because that would mean giving up on Alex, too.

  The stars cared nothing for her. The dark shapes of the houses cared nothing. The darkness cared nothing. Sarah went on, feet dragging, hopes dragging, because she could think of nothing else to do.

  One street corner. Nothing. Another. Nothing.

  Then she heard two sets of footsteps, walking briskly. Two shadows headed towards her. Sarah was filled with both hope and terror. Women’s shapes, which was a relief. One stout and bustling, the other tall and slender. A voice spoke incomprehensibly. They drew closer while Sarah strained her eyes to see …

  Alex, with an older woman at her side.

  Sarah ran, arms outstretched, tears pouring down her face. ‘Oh, where were you? I couldn’t find you, I was so frightened …’

  While Alex’s tears mingled with her own.

  Sarah turned to the woman, and for the first time saw it was Mrs Target, Alex’s old landlady.

  Of course! What a fool she was, not to have thought that was where Alex would be! But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Because Alex had been found.

  ‘I went straight to Mrs Target’s house,’ Alex explained. ‘Where else would I have gone? We had a good talk and she was just walking me back to the boat. I didn’t think you’d be worried. There was no reason. I thought you’d have guessed where I was. Where did you think I’d be? In the pub?’ She laughed as though amazed by her mother’s concern.

  Sarah, who had been distraught with terror, now pretended she had felt nothing at all. ‘Of course I wasn’t worried! I was just takin’ a stroll, that’s all!’

  With Sarah to keep Alex company, Mrs Target came no further. Alex and Sarah said goodbye to her and walked back to the wharf alone.

  ‘’ave a good talk?’ Sarah asked.

  Oh yes, they’d had a very good talk.

  ‘About anythin’ in particular?’

  ‘This ’n’ that.’

  And there Sarah, wisely, left it.

  Just before boarding, Alex hesitated and looked at her mother, who recognised the same grim mouth that she had seen so often on her husband’s face. ‘Is he going to get at me again? Because if he does —’

  ‘Just go to him. That’s all.’

  ‘I’m not going to tell him I’m sorry —’

  ‘Did anyone say you should? Just do it, that’s all.’

  So Alex went on board and walked into the saloon. Charlie looked up at her. His face showed nothing but, after a few seconds he stood. She went to him. Without a word, he put his arms about her.

  It looked as though they would be celebrating a happy Christmas together after all. Provided the run for Samuel McKinley went as planned.

  CHAPTER 76

  It was as though they had all gone back years.

  Brenda went downriver until they reached the island that Charlie remembered so well. The channel separating it from the riverbank was overgrown now, with white scars in the timber showing where overhanging branches had once been pruned back.

  Brenda drew into the bank. The rumble of the engine died, the paddles fell silent. The only sound was the buzzing of bees in the flowering gums.

  ‘When are they comin’?’

  ‘They’ll leave it as late as possible. Less chance of bein’ spotted, that way.’

  Sarah nodded. She had been against it from the first. She was against it still. But she had made up her mind to say nothing. Charlie had broken his promise as much for her sake as his own. Which did not mean she wasn’t frightened. If anyone had seen them, or if their luck ran out …

  McKinley’s men came late in the afternoon, riding so quietly that they’d arrived before anyone on board Brenda realised it.

  ‘Bin a helluva long time,’ the leader of the men said. ‘Never thought we’d see you lot again.’

  Charlie noticed the scar creasing the side of the man’s face. ‘How d’you get that?’

  ‘Close call.’ He grinned. ‘A very close call.’

  And he shouted to his men, who began to unload the waggon. As agreed, it was a big load, and it took a long time to bring on board. There was over a ton of cargo, high-value items in small parcels, mostly liquor and tobacco, plus a quantity of leather goods: bags and boots and harness. It would take as long to offload on the Victorian side of the river, which would increase their chances of being caught. Well, that was the arrangement.

  At last it was done. The men rode away. Night came sifting down.

  ‘Try to rest,’ Charlie told Sarah. ‘There won’t be much chance later.’

  It was good advice, but she did not take it. How could she, with the run hanging over them? After tea they all remained in the saloon together.

  Time crawled. Eight o’clock, nine …

  ‘Why you?’ Alex asked her father. ‘McKinley must have other men.’

  ‘He said he’s got two crews o
ut of action. One captain’s sick and the other’s got a crook engine.’

  ‘Lucky for us,’ Alex said.

  ‘Lucky isn’t the word I’d use,’ Sarah said.

  ‘The pair of you shoulda stayed with Mrs Target,’ Charlie told them. ‘That way you’d have been in the clear if anything happened.’

  ‘And not know what’s goin’ on?’ Sarah said. ‘I couldn’t ’ave borne that.’ She’d said the same before the fight with Jake Cousins.

  ‘Much better to know,’ Alex agreed.

  ‘Nuthun’s gunna happen anyway,’ said Charlie.

  ‘It better not,’ Sarah said, ‘or I’ll slaughter you.’

  ‘If there’s anythin’ left to slaughter. But, just in case, listen to what I want you to do.’

  Shortly before eleven they eased out from behind the island, paddles barely turning, and headed upriver. After an hour they turned and edged across the stream to the southern bank. Cautiously they approached the shore, which lay dark and still before them. Beyond the clearing where the cargo was to be landed, the outline of the gum trees blackened the sky. An errant breeze stirred the leaves. Somewhere a fox barked.

  ‘Midnight was the time we agreed.’ Charlie muttered. ‘Where’s that darn signal?’

  McKinley’s man had told him there would be a lantern flash, twice repeated, with fifteen seconds between each, but he’d seen nothing.

  ‘I’ll not go in without it.’ It was a warm night, but that was not why Charlie was sweating. ‘I’m gettin’ too old for this caper.’

  Darn right.

  The signal came at last, as arranged.

  ‘Ten past the hour! They took their time!’

  Charlie’s instincts were on full alert. He’d always trusted them yet this time decided they meant nothing. He was too old, that was all it was. He’d lost the feel for the business.

  Yard by yard, he drew into the shore. The bow grated on sand. His eyes scoured the darkness. His nerves vibrated with tension, but on the bank all was still.

  A gust of wind rattled the leaves of the gum trees. He rang down to Sarah to disengage the engine. The noise of the paddles died.

  There was a stir as shadows moved out of the darkness. Charlie’s nerves tightened, but the shadows turned not into customs officers but men with a horse-drawn waggon. Charlie drew a deep breath.