CHAPTER THREE
Charles Worthington-Jones rose from his bunk at dawn. The cabin floor seemed unusually steady under his feet. He dressed quickly and left his cabin door swinging open behind him as he bolted up to the deck, taking three stairs with each bound. And there it was, lying in every direction but astern—land.
One hundred and three days out of London, the English Rose, one of the great migrant sailing vessels on the Australia run, neared the end of her outward voyage. Her decks no longer creaked and heaved as they had for so long on the great swells of the open ocean. Now as the morning sun lumbered up over the horizon, her crew made the most of a light northeasterly as she sedately maneuvered her way through the sandy shoals of Moreton Bay toward the mouth of the Brisbane River.
Charles picked his way around a group of steerage passengers who still lay sleeping on the hard planking of the deck and took up a position at the ship's rail.
In London he had made exhaustive inquiries into all aspects of life in the Colony of Queensland. By all reports it appeared to be an exciting place, which enjoyed a warm yearround climate, a rapidly growing population, and a thriving economy. The more enquiries he made, the more determined he became to start a new life in the colony.
There had been nothing to hold Charles in England. He had no close family ties.His parents had died when he was seven years old, leaving just enough money for their only child to be raised by a distant relative, and to provide for a sound education.But the overriding factor in his decision to leave his position in London, in favor of an offer of employment from the Stonehouse Shipping Company in Brisbane, was a salary nearly double that which he could expect anywhere in the British Isles.
It was after midday before the English Rose had passed through the idyllic waters of Moreton Bay. When she reached the mouth of the Brisbane River, a small steam tug stood waiting, ready to assist her in making the last few miles up the winding muddy waterway.
Charles was taken immediately by the sweet smell of the land and the beauty of the lush vegetation after so long at sea; and he found the bright flowering shrubs and plants on the river banks a sight to behold. Eventually the ship rounded yet another bend in the river and the settlement of Brisbane came into view.
The scene changed abruptly. Now deeply rutted dirt streets lined with dingy little dwellings appeared on the river banks.Unlike the graceful outlying properties the ship had passed earlier, these buildings were huddled closely together, almost one on top of the other, and the odors of urban civilization wafted onto the ship.
Charles left the deck and returned to his cabin to prepare to disembark. An hour later, when he stepped off the gang-plank onto the wharf, he saw his name written in chalk on a small board held high in the air by a messenger boy.
The boy gave him a note and disappeared immediately. The message was brief.It stated that a senior staff member of the Stonehouse Shipping Company would call for him at eight o'clock the following morning at the Migrant's Home.
It was late afternoon when the customs procedure had been fully complied with. It was dark when an immigration official led the ship's weary passengers to the Immigrants Receiving Depot—or Migrant's Home, a large barracks type building at nearby Kangaroo Point, where newcomers to the colony were initially housed.
Charles rose at dawn again the following morning. It was not so much in order to prepare himself for his first day at Stonehouse's, but rather to escape the confines of the Migrant's Home where rats and cockroaches had tormented him all through the night.
Outside the dreary building he was greeted by a glorious sunny September morning. After a brisk walk in the fresh air his spirits rose again, and he returned to wash and change his clothes in readiness for the day ahead.
At eight o'clock Charles stood waiting at the gate of the Migrant's Home. He cut an impressive figure in an immaculately tailored English suit which made him appear taller and thinner than his average height and weight.
He was twenty four years old, with a smooth-shaven square jaw, and wide blue eyes.A thick shock of curly light brown hair tumbled down over a high white collar, drawn tightly around the throat, and still stiff with the starch of a London laundry. When the two-horse carriage pulled up beside him his boyish face broke into an easy smile.
`Mr Worthington-Jones?' A voice called out from inside.
`Yes, sir.'
The door of the carriage swung open and a thin man in his mid forties beckoned him inside. `Get in boy, get in. My driver will take care of your luggage.'
Charles climbed inside and sat down opposite the thin man who reached out and shook his hand with a firm bony grip.
`My name is Silas Moser young man. I am general manager of the Stonehouse Shipping Company. I have been asked by Mr Stonehouse himself to welcome you personally to the colony and to take you to the company's office in South Brisbane. We have arranged for room and board to be provided for you at the home of our senior clerk John Cripps.'
`Why thank you Mr Moser,' Charles said. `I'm very pleased to be here.'
The driver cracked his whip and the coach pulled away. There was a brief silence and Charles was conscious of Silas Moser's grey eyes weighing him up.
`There is something I must make plain from the outset Charles,' Silas Moser said at last. `As long as you are in the employ of the Stonehouse Shipping Company you will be responsible directly to me and only me, and you will always address me as Mr Moser or sir. Now is that absolutely clear?'
`Certainly Mr Moser, sir. I understand perfectly.'
Moser's thin lips pursed and tacit approval showed on his gaunt craggy face. `One thing I can say for the English. You know your station and accept it without question. I think you and I will get along very well Charles. My father was English you know: a jailer at the old Moreton Bay Penal Colony.'
The Stonehouse Shipping Company's offices occupied a two story wooden building adjacent to a South Brisbane wharf where two large sailing ships were tied alongside.
A number of smaller boats lay at anchor in the river awaiting their turn at the wharf. The whole area was alive with activity. Vessels were being loaded and unloaded, and haulage carts were coming and going at a steady pace.
Silas Moser turned Charles over to John Cripps, an elderly white haired man with a kindly face, who showed him over the premises and introduced him to the rest of the staff.
After the rounds had been made, Cripps took Charles to his own office. It was small and sparsely furnished, with one small internal window, carefully placed to allow supervision of the clerks as they worked at their desks in the general office.
Cripps smiled and said, `I will arrange for another desk to be put in here for you later in the day Charles. My instructions are to take you to Mr Stonehouse's office as soon as he arrives. In the meantime I will do my best to acquaint you with the procedures of the office and show you where everything is located. Should you have any questions, please speak up and I will be happy to assist you in any way I can.'
`Thank you,' Charles said. Already he had taken a liking to the affable and obliging Cripps.
It wasn't long before the messenger boy who had been at the wharf the day before appeared at the office door. He announced that Mr Stonehouse had arrived and wished to see Mr Worthington-Jones right away.
Cripps led the way up to the second story and paused outside an immense double door with two brass handles fashioned in the shape of lion's heads. Unnecessarily Cripps straightened his collar and ran a hand over his white hair before knocking softly on the big door.
`Enter,' a voice boomed from inside.
Alexander James Stonehouse was a stocky red-faced Scot about fifty. Cripps introduced Charles to Stonehouse who pushed back his chair from a huge polished desk and rose to his feet with a large hand outstretched.
`Welcome to Queensland, and to the company young man,' Stonehouse said loudly in a rich highland brogue.
`Thank you, sir,' Charles said as he shook Stonehouse's hand. `It is indeed a pleasur
e to be here in Brisbane and to meet you at last.'
Stonehouse gestured to a carved walnut occasional chair. Charles sat down in it and glanced around the room as Stonehouse had a brief word with Cripps.
A large square Brussels carpet covered almost the entire office floor leaving just a small border of polished hardwood boards around the walls. The furnishings were of the highest quality and the most sumptuous Charles had ever seen. Large oil paintings of sailing vessels hung on the walls, each with a small brass plate inlaid into the base of the frame, noting the ship's name and details. A wide window behind the desk provided an unobstructed view of the South Brisbane Reach of the river, and on each side of the glass stood an elaborately carved wooden Kangaroo.
Cripps closed the door behind him and Stonehouse sat down. Air gushed from his deep leather chair when it took his full weight. He waved a hand in the direction of what lay outside the window.
`Charles,' Stonehouse began without preamble, `this colony is a vast land, over five times the size of the entire British Isles, a place where a man with ambition can carve out a fine future for himself.' Stonehouse spoke with reverence, his blue eyes fixed on Charles. `We are enjoying prosperous times at present in the colony. We are reaping the harvest of the labors of the early settlers, the men and women who had the courage and tenacity to come from the old land and make something of this tropical wilderness, men and women of vision with great strength and fortitude. They came and opened up this harsh inhospitable land despite all the set-backs: the droughts, the flooding rains, the searing heat—and often murderous blacks. Now the colony has great pastoral properties, large sugar plantations, gold mines, coal mines, merchants, and successful men of commerce.'
Charles watched as Stonehouse rose from his chair, stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and paced the floor behind his desk.
`I was one of those early settlers Charles,' Stonehouse continued. `I have built a successful company, the sole purpose of which is to assist in any way possible in the further development of the colony. Three years ago the population of Brisbane was less than forty thousand souls— today we are nearing seventy thousand, with more arriving every day.The story is the same all over the colony. The inland towns and coastal ports are growing in leaps and bounds and new settlements are coming into being all the time.New roads have to be built. We need more ships. New railway lines have to be constructed and existing lines need to be extended. A great deal of wealth is about to be created here Charles, not only in shipping, but in a number of other important areas, and we must make sure this company receives its fair share of that wealth. I intend to take advantage of every opening for commerce, and of every opportunity for profit than presents itself.'
Stonehouse stopped pacing and took a cigar from a beautifully crafted teak box on his desk. He drew it thoughtfully under his nose, testing the aroma, before carefully snipping off the end with a pair of silver cutters and sticking it between his teeth.
`And this is where you come in young man. In order for this company to expand successfully, it will require skilful financial management, which in part I shall look to you to supply. It is because men of your ability and qualifications are generally unavailable in the colony, that we were prepared to offer such a liberal financial inducement to secure your services.'
Stonehouse paused to strike a match. He puffed hard on the cigar and resumed pacing the floor.
`Unfortunately Charles I don't enjoy the very best of health. I have a heart condition which somewhat restricts my energy and requires me to rely heavily on those around me. I require one hundred and ten percent effort from everyone.' Stonehouse's blue eyes narrowed. `Now, can I count on you to unstintingly play your part in my plans for the future of the firm Charles? I demand absolute loyalty and I expect a great deal of hard work'
`I shall be proud and happy to give both, sir,' Charles said without hesitation. `And I would like to express my gratitude for the opportunity to do so.'
Stonehouse nodded in satisfaction. `I like the cut of your jib young man. As of tomorrow morning you will take over Cripps' duties as head-clerk and accountant. As you are aware, Mr Moser is the general manager of the firm and undoubtedly he has made it clear to you already that you will report directly to him.'
`Yes, sir, he has.'
`Very well then Charles. That will be all. Please report to Mr Moser and ask him to come and see me. He will tell Cripps of the new arrangements.'
Charles got up to leave. `Doesn't Mr Cripps know about me assuming his position yet, sir?' he asked cautiously when he reached the door.
`How could he laddie?' Stonehouse stood at the window in a cloud of cigar smoke with his back to Charles. `I only made my final decision on the matter just a few minutes ago.'
Charles went directly to Silas Moser's office with mixed feelings. He was elated with the position he had just been given. He had never expected it. But he was troubled by the probability that John Cripps didn't expect it either.
When Charles reached Silas Moser's office the door was ajar and he could see there was another man talking with him. He decided to return a few minutes later and turned to leave but Moser saw him and called him inside.
`Charles, I would like you to meet Captain Cockburn. He is the master of the brigantine Faithful, one of our labor recruiting vessels. You may have noticed her anchored in the river near the wharf.'
Cockburn rose to his full height, suntanned and resplendent in a uniform he wore only when visiting the company's head office in Brisbane. He shook Charles' hand with a strong sailor's grip.
`Mr Moser was just telling me about you Charles.All the way from London I hear. I hope you will like it here in the colony.'
`I'm sure I will Captain Cockburn.'
`The Faithful will be alongside the wharf later in the day to take on provisions. Perhaps you may care to come aboard for a tot of rum this evening.'
`Well I'm afraid I haven't moved into my lodgings yet Captain.I...'
`Did you wish to see me Charles?' Moser interrupted.
`Mr Stonehouse asked me to tell you that he would like to see you in his office, sir.'
Moser's bushy eyebrows shot up. `Has he spoken with you of the position of company accountant?'
`Yes he has Mr Moser.'
`I see...my congratulations Charles.' Moser turned to Cockburn. `Well Isaiah, I think our business is concluded. Now if you will excuse me..?'
`Of course.' Cockburn hastily stuffed some papers into a leather satchel. `With your permission I'll go about my business in town now, sir.'
When Charles turned to leave Silas Moser said, `Perhaps it would be better if you didn't return to your office just yet Charles. I expect after I've seen Mr Stonehouse, I shall require to speak to Cripps for some time in private. Perhaps you might care to take a look around the wharf for a while?'
One of the large sailing ships Charles had seen alongside earlier had left when he stepped out onto the wharf. Her place was already taken by a smaller vessel which had the Stonehouse medieval tower emblem painted boldly on her funnel. Charles took her to be a coastal steamer and went closer to take a better look.
The last of her passengers, those who had livestock travelling with them, had just disembarked. They stood on the dock as crew members led horses down a wide wooden ramp near the stern of the vessel.
Charles' attention was drawn to a tall well built man who stood apart from the rest of the passengers. He was dressed in a dark well-cut European suit, but he was not European. He wore his long black hair in a pig-tail like a Chinese, but he was not a Chinese. He stood beside a heavy stockman's saddle which had a stock-whip lashed to one side, and a long holster housing a Snider carbine hung on the other. Beside the saddle were two large leather saddle-bags, both crammed full to overflowing.
The tall half-breed must have sensed he was being watched. He turned his head and looked Charles squarely in the eye.Charles looked away and ambled off down the wharf, away from all the activity. He found a quiet place
and stopped and sat on an iron bollard.
Nearby, a wooden ladder led down from the dock to a small raft at the edge of the river. Charles watched as a couple of rowing boats tied to the raft began to turn with the tide. He looked out across the river and saw the Faithful, and she too started to swing on her mooring.
Charles was contemplating Cripps' reaction to his appointment when a figure appeared on the deck of the Faithful. It looked like an old woman in a long dress. But when she suddenly pulled the dress off over her head and dived stark naked into the water, Charles plainly saw the firm body of a young girl.
When she surfaced, she swam directly for the shore, her arms pushing the water behind her with strong powerful strokes. Behind her, two men hastily scrambled down from the deck of the Faithful into a small dinghy and bent their backs to the oars.
The gap between the girl and the small boat began to close rapidly, but she reached the raft a few yards ahead of the dinghy and quickly pulled herself out of the water. She ran to the ladder. In seconds she had climbed to the wharf.
When she saw Charles she hesitated, not knowing what to do or where to run.Charles saw the terror in her eyes. Then the first man was upon her. He was a little man with a pockmarked face and reeked of rum. He grabbed her by the hair and slapped her face repeatedly until she fell to the ground, then he dragged her back towards the river.
Charles ran to her aid, but the second man punched him hard in the face, sending him reeling backwards with blood streaming from his nose. He heard a loud crack behind him. At the same instant he saw blood spurt from the face of the man who had just punched him, and the sailor turned and fled back down the ladder.
Charles spun around and saw the half-breed. In one hand he held the bridle of a big chestnut mare. In the other he wielded a stock whip. The whip cracked again and again. Now it was the turn of the little pock-marked woman beater to feel pain as the lash bit deep into his flesh.
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