Blackbird

by David Crookes

Charles and Cockburn left together. When they were outside the building Charles said, 'What do you think will happen to the girl, Captain Cockburn? What will the poor thing do now?'

  Cockburn looked straight ahead. Without breaking his stride toward the Faithful, he said:

  'She should get down on her knees. She should pray long and hard to God Almighty. Pray that Silas Moser never finds her, because as sure as the sun comes up tomorrow morning, I know he won't rest until he does.'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The laughing cackle of kookaburras in the trees outside woke Ben at dawn from a long sound sleep. He lay quite still for a few moments while his dark eyes took in his surroundings.

  He had arrived at the property in Graceville at around six o'clock the previous evening, and was immediately taken by the charm and size of the house—a graceful white Queenslander with verandas running the full length of all four sides.

  Inside there was an impressive hall, a huge-drawing room, a formal dining-room, a study, five good sized bedrooms, and a large country kitchen with adjacent servant's quarters. Both the drawing-room and the master bedroom boasted large brick-faced open fireplaces.

  Ben had wanted to look over the grounds and out-buildings right away, but fading light had denied him the opportunity. He had been glad to see there was still some furniture remaining in the house, including a large double bed in the master-bedroom, in which he had spent the night.

  He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots, then got up and opened the french doors which led onto the veranda. He was greeted by a fine clear morning, and from where he stood he had an excellent view of the Indooroopilly Reach of the Brisbane river. It lay below him, some three or four hundred yards away at the bottom of a gently sloping paddock. The river shimmered in the stillness of the early morning light as it lazily wound it's way through the lush green countryside.

  As Ben stepped out onto the veranda, the tranquility was shattered by the piercing scream of a locomotive whistle.Soon after, he heard the rumbling of iron wheels, and the whistle sounded it's warning again just before the train passed over the Indooroopilly bridge.

  Ben could see the bridge clearly from the house and watched the train as it chugged resolutely toward Brisbane carrying coal from the mines of Ipswich, some fifteen miles to the south-west.

  A horse whinnied in the stables behind the house and Ben walked around to the building and led out his mare. When she tugged hard at his restraining hand he let go of the halter, and she walked briskly to a patch of fresh green grass and dropped her head to feed.

  Ben watched her and grinned. `What do you think of this place old girl?' he called out after her. `Is it good enough for such a fine horse as you?'

  He left the mare to her feed and wondered off in the direction of the river. When he reached the water he walked along the river-bank towards what looked to be a small hut some distance downstream.

  The river was low with the outgoing tide, and in places, Ben's boots sank deep into thick heavy mud. As he approached the hut he could see the ground around it had once been used as a work area for making bricks from surface clay beside the river. Inside the little building there were several brick moulds and a quantity of sun-baked bricks. The bricks looked to be of the same type and texture as those used in the fireplaces up at the house.

  On the Palmer, Ah Sing and Ben had made brick blocks from river clay which they used to build the walls of the humpy. But none of the Palmer bricks had been of such high quality as these. Ben picked up two bricks, cleaned them, then carried them back up to the house. He held them up against those in the drawing-room. Sure enough, the fireplaces in the house, and the chimneys, had been built with bricks sun-baked from the surface mud down by the river.

  Later, Ben saddled his mare and rode over the remaining land which he had not covered on foot, and found it was all fenced including the western boundary which was immediately adjacent to the railway line. When he had inspected every inch of the land he rode up to the highest point of the whole sixty-five acres and dismounted in the shade of a huge Moreton Bay fig tree.

  From the small hill-top, Ben looked out over the entire property and took in its beauty and serenity. He found it all very much to his liking.

  Memories of his English mother Charlotte, drifted into his mind, and for the first time in years he made no attempt to push them out. He saw her image clearly, just as she was the day he watched her die when he was barely eight years old. Her brief battle with cholera ended in a wretched digger's tent at One Mile Creek during the great Gympie goldrush of 1867.

  Her tender face was prematurely aged by the degradation of transportation from her native land, from years of convict labor in the colony of New South Wales, and from the years spent afterwards, traipsing from one goldfield to another with Ben and his father.

  During the years of drifting, Ben knew the one thing that kept her going was her dream of a place of their own, somewhere they could call home—a place to put down roots. And Ben knew in his heart, had his mother been spared, the property on which he stood would have more than fulfilled that dream.

  He sat quietly under the fig tree for almost an hour before he remounted and rode back down the hill.

  *

  John Cripps and his wife Kathleen had lived in the same modest home on the slopes of Highgate Hill overlooking the South Brisbane Reach of the river for over thirty years.

  John had built the house soon after they arrived from New South Wales in the newly opened free settlement area previously known as the Moreton Bay Penal Settlement. They had raised a family in the little house but their children had long since grown up and left the nest.

  `It will be nice to have some young company around the house again Charles,' Kathleen had said when John brought Charles home. When she heard about Charles' appointment she seemed relieved. `I'm glad to hear it,' she said, `Mr Moser and Mr Stonehouse can be difficult men to please sometimes Charles. And John is too old for all that now. I'll be glad when he can retire and tend his garden.'

  Charles spent his first few days at Stonehouse's working closely with Cripps, absorbing as much as he could about the company's business operations. Apart from shipping, the firm was engaged in a number of diversified enterprises, including commercial property and finance. It was plain from the accounting journals that all facets of the firm were financially successful. Charles was impressed, and keen to use his talents to the benefit of the company. He saw little of Silas Moser until one morning an office boy stuck his head into his office and announced that Mr Moser wished to see him and Mr Cripps right away.

  When they entered his office, Moser waved a hand in the direction of some vacant chairs on the other side of his desk without taking his nose out of a sheaf of papers he was reading. When he eventually looked up he said, `Gentlemen... you will recall the unfortunate incident on our wharf a few days ago when a young female Kanaka escaped from the legal custody of the firm in breach of our labor contract.'

  `I certainly do, sir,' Charles said, and passed his fingers over his still bruised nose.

  A tight smile stretched over Moser's bony face. `Then you will be pleased to hear that we have located the runaway. The toll collector on the bridge said he saw the Kanaka cross the river with the man who flogged Bates. His horse was later seen tethered for some time outside Llewellyn's store in Queen Street. Neither the horse nor its owner has been seen since, but it seems Mrs Llewellyn has been harboring the Kanaka in her living quarters in the store.'

  `And what have you decided to do, sir?' John Cripps asked gravely. `After all, the Llewellyn's have been good tenants over the years.'

  Moser's eyes narrowed.

  `Come now Cripps. You of all people know only too well Mrs Llewellyn's rent has always been in arrears since her husband died. I don't need to remind you that the company needs to realize a return on that property just the same as any other investment. In the past I have always acceded to your requests for leniency with respect to Mrs Llewellyn, even
to the extent of not enforcing debtor judgments awarded to us by the district court. But now ‚she has chosen to show her gratitude by hiding a Kanaka, I'm afraid I now have no choice but to put the interests of the firm first.'

  Moser started to thumb through the sheaf of papers again. `I have here a number of documents you will need to take with you when we evict Mrs Llewellyn from the premises later this afternoon. There is a court order for the eviction, a judgment in the amount of thirty eight pounds, seventeen shillings and sixpence, with respect to rental arrears, including accrued interest. In addition there is a warrant of execution of that judgment with which you and the court bailiff will seize all Mrs Llewellyn's personal possessions and all stock in trade in the store.' Moser passed the papers across the desk to Cripps who sat glum-faced on the edge of his chair.

  `Please see to it that the goods are liquidated as soon as possible in order that we may write down the debtors account.'

  `And what of the Kanaka girl Mr Moser, what would you have me do about her?' Cripps asked, despondently.

  `Nothing,' Moser said flatly, `I have made arrangements for her to serve out her labor contract as a domestic in a household in Toowong not far from where I live. I have also arranged for a police constable to be in attendance when we evict Mrs Llewellyn, in case the court orders need to be forcibly carried out.

  *

  Kiri was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor when the group of men entered the store. She watched as the bailiff served the papers on Mrs Llewellyn, and a moment later saw the shopkeeper's hand rise swiftly to her mouth to stifle a cry of dismay. Then tears welled in the Welshwoman's eyes and her big bosom heaved as she broke into loud uncontrollable sobs. When Kiri ran to comfort Mrs Llewellyn, the constable grabbed her and held her in front of him, holding her wrists tightly behind her back. Unable to move, she stood and watched while Mrs Llewellyn went into the living quarters with the bailiff and Cripps following closely behind her.

  A few minutes later she reappeared, more composed now, but with tears still rolling down her face. In one hand she held a handkerchief clenched in a tight fist, and in the other she carried a small cloth bag which contained the few personal things the court order allowed her to keep.

  Cripps led Mrs Llewellyn towards the front door. As they passed the constable, Mrs Llewellyn freed her arm and briefly held Kiri's face in her hands. Kiri felt the shopkeeper's wet lips press against her cheek, then Cripps took her arm again. When he opened the door, Mrs Llewellyn's loud sobbing started again. A moment later‚ utterly confused and distressed beyond words, she stepped out into the street and disappeared.

  *

  It was hot in Silas Moser's carriage. Darkness fell as it passed through woodland along the riverbank between the town and the affluent suburb of Toowong.Kiri sat opposite Charles and Moser, her dark eyes lowered, saying nothing. When the constable had led her from the store she came quietly, and Charles saw no signof the defiance she had shown a few days earlier on the wharf.

  Through the darkness Charles felt Kiri's eyes on him. He knew she had recognized him the moment she got in the carriage, and he knew intuitively that somehow she felt he was responsible for what was happening.

  When the carriage emerged from the woods, the roadway became bathed in moonlight. It shone into the carriage and onto Kiri's face. Charles' eyes took in her loveliness.

  She was even more beautiful than the images which had constantly flickered across his mind since the day he had first seen her on the wharf. Even in her dirty cleaning clothes, and in yet another desperate situation, she still looked proud and aloof.

  Moser's driver cracked his whip and the horses quickened their pace. Soon the road turned away from the Brisbane River and gradually climbed to higher ground. The quality homes of Toowong were set well back from the roadway and out of sight, but Charles could see their lights winking through the trees and lush foliage which surrounded them.

  The carriage turned off the road and passed through the open gateway of a high brickwalled property, then followed a driveway lined with tall ghost gums to the entrance of an elegant two-story mansion.

  `Wait here with the girl,' Moser said to Charles as he stepped down out of the carriage. He pulled a long black chain which hung beside a huge double door and a bell jangled inside the house.

  Almost immediately the big doors swung open. A tall grey-haired butler stood in the light of a chandelier. From where Charles sat he could see some of the ambience inside: a magnificent Italian marble floor, wall paintings, a tall grandfather clock, and a glimpse of the superb joinery of a huge mahogany staircase.

  The butler nodded politely at Moser and disappeared, only to return a moment later with a plump middle-aged woman with long black hair which fell over bare milky-white shoulders. The woman wore a stylish red satin dress with skirts which flowed right down to the floor. Tightly laced corsets clearly defined the round of her hips and shaped and suppressed her waistline, but forced her huge fleshy breasts to overflow the low neckline of the dress.

  Moser opened the carriage door and the woman's heady perfume filled the air as she leaned in and appraised Kiri in the moonlight.

  `The girl is indeed as beautiful as you said,' the woman called out to Moser. Then she turned to Charles and smiled warmly. `And who is this young man?' The woman's hand explored the length of Charles' thigh as she called out again. `You may leave him here at The Gables also if you wish Silas.'

  Moser laughed uncomfortably.

  `He's Mr Charles Worthington-Jones, our new head-clerk, just out from England.'

  The woman smiled at Charles again. `I'm Mrs Jane Brinkle young man, though most of the gentlemen in Brisbane just call me Madam Jane. If you get lonely Charles, please feel free to visit us at The Gables at any time at all.'

  Madam Jane took Kiri by the arm and led her into the house. Moser followed them inside. A few minutes later he came back out and told his driver to take him home.

  Charles and Moser sat in silence until they reached Moser's residence, a dimly lit home on a large block of elevated land about a mile from The Gables. When the carriage pulled up at the door Moser said, `My driver will take you back to Highgate Hill Charles.' He paused and reached into an inside pocket and produced a brown envelope and handed it to Charles. `This contains the sum of fifty pounds which Madam Jane has paid for the services of the Kanaka. Please see to it that the money is credited in the ledger to the company's labor recruiting operations.'

  `Fifty pounds, sir,' Charles looked surprised. `But that's many times the normal rate paid for a Kanaka, sir.'

  Moser's eyebrows rose. `Come now Charles, the services she'll perform at Madam Jane's will be far from normal. Surely you realize The Gables is nothing more than a very exclusive brothel. However, it enjoys the patronage of some of the colony's most successful men of commerce, wealthy pastoralists, and even a number of politicians whose lust sometimes prevails over common decency.'

  A servant emerged from the shadows and opened the carriage door. Moser stepped out.Before he entered the house he turned to Charles. His tight lips curled into a sneer when he said: `I'm sure after Madam Jane drives some discipline and respect into the Kanaka, she will be the most sought after whore in the house,' he said. `And she will learn to accept her position in life, which will be flat on her back, and no doubt the clientele of The Gables will drive a lot more into her than just discipline and respect.'

  *

  Ben reached his decision to buy the property at Graceville after a great deal of careful consideration. He visited neighboring properties and spoke to their owners. He was glad to hear them speak highly of the area, their only complaint being occasional flooding of the land beside the river.

  He took samples of clay from the low-lying areas and fashioned rough bricks, then put them in the sun to bake. When they had cured they looked to be of good quality which he knew could be greatly improved using the proper procedures and good equipment.

  During the days spent on and around th
e property, Ben noticed trains travelling regularly in each direction on the railway line. A few boats still worked the river, but ‚since the completion of the nearby Indooroopilly Bridge, which provided a rail-river crossing, the days of large vessels plying the river between Brisbane and Ipswich were gone forever.

  It was a week before Ben returned to James Whitworth's bank. When he walked in, the aloof clerk wasted no time informing the manager of his arrival. Whitworth greeted Ben warmly and showed him to a chair in his office.

  'I have inspected the property at Graceville,' Ben said as he sat down, `and I am prepared to pay the sum of eleven hundred pounds you say is owing to the bank by the previous owner. I wish to take possession immediately.'

  Whitworth's face beamed. `A very wise decision Mr Luk.' He gave a small brass bell on his desk a vigorous shake. The clerk appeared at the door and Whitworth told him to instruct the bank's solicitor to attend to the necessary conveyancing without delay.

  `Now Mr Luk, have you given any thought as to what type of business you may take up in the future,' Whitworth asked as the clerk closed the door behind him.

  `I think I shall try my hand at brickmaking,' Ben said. 'The clay on the low land at Graceville appears to be most suitable.'

  `What an excellent idea. With the present building boom in the capital, there is a strong demand for bricks which is likely to continue for years to come.' Whitworth, secure in the knowledge Ben didn't require bank financing for his scheme, gave the venture his unqualified support. His great fleshy jowls wobbled in unbridled enthusiasm. `Furthermore Mr Luk, I am in a position to introduce you to several important builders who are clients of the bank and who could well be your customers in the future.'

  `Thank you,' Ben said appreciatively. `I will certainly take advantage of your kind offer just as soon as I am ready to commence trading. In the meantime I shall settle in at the property. I have decided to call it Jarrah.'

  `Jarrah!an unusual name Mr. Luk.'

  `It is the name of the great mahogany-red gum found in the far west Mr Whitworth. It is a strong honest tree. It grows tall and straight, with a firm close-grained timber, well able to resist the parasites which feed off and eventually destroy lesser trees.'