Blackbird

by David Crookes

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Castlecraig , Alexander Stonehouse's home at Hamilton, looked more like a castle than a family residence. It was built of limestone blocks quarried especially for the purpose from the Limestone Hills near Ipswich. The house was perched high on a hilltop overlooking the Hamilton Reach of the Brisbane River. It had two main wings separated by a huge grand hall. Above the hall, a tall tower stood stark against the sky.

  The view from the battlements of the tower was magnificent. It stretched in a panoramic sweep from the waters of Moreton Bay in the east, up the meandering muddy river to Brisbane, and westward to the mountains beyond. And it was a rare day indeed, when a vessel flying the colors of the Stonehouse Shipping Company, failed to pass beneath that gaunt tower and pay homage to the company's founder, at the beginning or at the end of a trip across the bay, or a voyage half-way around the globe.

  The tower had always been Stonehouse's favorite part of the house. Years earlier, when he and his wife ceased to share the same bed, he had builders construct living quarters for him high up in the structure. He furnished them lavishly and enjoyed them, despite having to climb several flights of steep stairs which at times aggravated his heart condition.

  The apartment became Stonehouse's own private retreat, from which he would only emerge to dine with his wife and daughter, to attend his company's offices, or to visit the prestigious Brisbane Colonial Club of which he was a founding member.

  Stonehouse awoke in his solid brass four-poster. The taste of the claret which had put him to sleep the night before still lingered in his mouth. The hands on a handsome grandfather clock across his room read seven o'clock. He reached for the tassel beside the bed and tugged hard on the cord several times.

  Within minutes an elderly man-servant entered the room. He carried a large pitcher of hot water and several white face-towels folded neatly over his arm. The servant paused for a moment, trying to catch his breath after the long climb up the stairs, then poured the hot water into a large marble-topped wash-stand.

  `I shall be going to South Brisbane this morning Jenkins,' Stonehouse said. `Tell cook I shall eat breakfast in exactly half an hour, and tell my driver to have the carriage at the front door at eight.'

  `Yes, sir.' Stonehouse swung his stocky legs over the side of the bed and dismissed the servant with the wave of a thick dimpled hand. Some time later when he took his place at the head of the long breakfast table, his wife was already taking tea, toast and marmalade at the other end.

  Clare Stonehouse was a petite pale-looking woman with graying hair. `Good morning Alexander,' she said without looking up. The words rolled slowly off her tongue in the same rich highland brogue as her husband.`Jenkins tells me you're driving to town shortly. Catherine just asked if she may go with you. I told her you probably wouldn't mind waiting just a wee while if she got ready right away.'

  `Did you now,' Stonehouse said drily as he watched a housemaid pour his tea. `And what made you think that?'

  Clare Stonehouse smiled faintly and looked down the length of the table at her husband. `Because Alexander,' she said softly, `your daughter is the only person on the face of God's earth to whom you can't say no.'

  *

  John Cripps had agreed to stay on at Stonehouse's until Charles was fully familiar with all aspects of his new position. Now three months had passed, and Cripps wore his best suit of clothes as he set out from his little house on the hill to serve out his last day at the firm.

  It was the first time he had ever worn the dark English-made suit with the black velvet collar to work. But it was also the first time in twenty five years that Alexander Stonehouse was to show his appreciation of John's long and faithful service by inviting him to the Colonial Club as his luncheon guest. When Cripps reached the wharf he went straight to his office and began work as if the morning were the same as any other during the last quarter century.

  Charles had already been at work for nearly two hours. It had become his habit to leave the Cripp's house just after dawn to give him a head-start on the working day. Business in the colony was booming. The Stonehouse wharf was crammed with shipping, and many more vessels were riding at anchor in the river awaiting a berth alongside to load or unload cargo.

  This morning Charles was out on the wharf overseeing the final tally of cargo being unloaded from an unusual visitor to the Port of Brisbane, a five masted schooner from the west coast of the United States of America.

  The vessel was named the Mendocino Trader. Her master was also her owner. Christian Blue was a tall youthful-looking adventurer from California. He had a mop of long curly blond hair, and an honest and open American face. His ship had arrived in Brisbane from Portland, badly damaged by two summer storms. When she tied up at Stonehouse's, her cargo of soft pine from the evergreen forests of Oregon was still intact, but Christian Blue was left high and dry when the buyer of the timber was unable to raise the money to pay for it.

  A week later, strapped for cash, anxious to make repairs, and eager to transport a rare cargo of wool back to America, Christian Blue reluctantly accepted a cash offer for the timber. The offer came from Stonehouse's, after Silas Moser had pressured other interested parties not to make any competing offers, and only after he had pre-sold the cargo at three times the buying price to a local timber merchant.

  By mid-morning the last of the timber was piled high on the dock. Charles stood beside it with Christian Blue and calculated the amount of money payable under the terms of Moser's offer.

  `I'll go to the office and get your cash Mr Blue,' Charles said. `I only wish it could be more.'

  Christian Blue shrugged. `Don't worry yourself none Mr Worthington-Jones. I've sailed the world over and there's men like Silas Moser everywhere—men willing to take advantage of another man's misfortune. Sooner or later the tide always turns, or the wind changes. That's when scum like Moser discover honest men have long memories.'

  When Charles reached the office he shared with Cripps, he was surprised to see a young woman sitting at his desk. She sat with her head down, counting a small pile of bank-notes. She wore a wide-brimmed summer hat, decorated with a thick crimson ribbon. Beneath the hat, long red hair spilled down over her shoulders. When she finished counting, the girl looked up at Charles. She was no more than twenty years old —and beautiful. She smiled flirtatiously.

  `You must be Charles Worthington-Jones,' the girl said in a cultured English accent. `Old Cripps was just telling me about you. Come all the way from England I hear, just to sit at this dreary old desk.' She stood up quickly. `Here...come have it back.'

  Charles stood in the doorway and watched the girl stuff the banknotes into her purse. She wore a frilly white blouse and a long flowing scarlet skirt. The blouse, although loose and buttoned up to the throat, couldn't conceal the generous round of her breasts, and her skirt only accentuated the smallness of her waist.

  The girl snapped the purse shut and moved toward the door.

  `Excuse me Miss,' Charles said. `But who are you? What are you doing here?'

  She came and stood as close to him as her wide brimmed hat would allow. Her face was just inches from his own. Charles could smell the fragrance of her perfume. Her skin looked too soft and white to ever have been exposed to the harsh Queensland sun.

  `I'm Catherine Stonehouse.' she said, almost triumphantly. `I just came down from my father's office to get money from Cripps.' She looked Charles directly in the eye and smiled coyly `Cripps told me, after today, I'll have to get whatever I need from you.'

  Charles felt his cheeks color. He smiled awkwardly. `Oh Miss Stonehouse,' he said lamely. `I didn't realize. You sound so... so English.'

  `That's because I recently returned from England after three years at finishing school.' She lowered her pale green eyes. `What a shame we were not aboard the same ship en route to Queensland.'

  Charles was taken aback by her directness again, and found himself completely at a loss for words.

  `You must excuse me,' C
atherine said quickly. `I must hurry...Father and Cripps are about to leave for town in the carriage.'

  Her body touched his just for a moment as she brushed past him through the doorway. As Charles watched her hurry away through the general office, a tinge of excitement swept through him. It was heightened by his certainty that the brief contact she had made with her body was intentional.

  *

  Stonehouse's driver stopped the carriage at Brisbane's newest and largest store on the way to the Colonial Club. Catherine Stonehouse alighted and promised to be ready and waiting at the same spot when the carriage returned for her at precisely four o'clock that afternoon.

  The Colonial Club boasted a membership approaching three hundred of Queensland's leading gentlemen. Most were pastoralists, wealthy men of commerce, and a few northern planters. All enjoyed the social status associated with membership.

  The club's predominantly British founding members had spared no expense in building an elegant and gracious monument to the preservation of a class-conscious society. The magnificent white building was built on several acres of well maintained grounds on the riverbank not far from the centre of town. The facility, surrounded by a high wrought iron fence, was certainly at least equal, in style and trappings, to any gentlemen's club to be found in the old land.

  A smartly uniformed doorman held open the huge front door of the club and nodded politely as Stonehouse and Cripps entered. Inside, Stonehouse led the way to the member's lounge through a wide foyer. The walls were lined with large pictures, ranging from an enormous oil painting of Queen Victoria in full regalia, to a formal photograph of the club's management committee.

  Stonehouse steered Cripps to an ornately carved wooden table surrounded by four deep leather chairs. It was barely eleven o'clock, but already a large number of the colony's elite were scattered around the lounge, seated at tables, or standing up at the long bar.

  Cripps lowered himself into one of the leather chairs. He looked around the room while Stonehouse ordered whisky from a white-haired club steward. Cripps recognized a number of men: several well known politicians, pastoralists, and a number of principals of trading houses, with which, as head-clerk of Stonehouse's, he had done business over the years. Cripps wondered if the business and political affairs of the colony were being pursued as diligently as they might be, with so many captains of industry and legislators imbibing at such an early hour.

  The steward returned with a decanter of Scotch whisky and matching crystal glasses on a silver tray. When the steward had poured two tots, Stonehouse raised a glass.

  `To you, Cripps. Thank you for all the years.'

  `It's been my pleasure Mr Stonehouse.'

  `Little pleasure at times I'm sure Cripps. What with me always demanding a wee too much of everyone, and Silas always expecting the impossible.'

  `I have no complaints Mr Stonehouse. I know the importance of discipline and hard work in business.'

  Stonehouse downed his drink and poured himself another—considerably more generous than the first. He raised the glass and eyed Cripps over the rim. `Tell me honestly John, what is your opinion of Worthington-Jones?'

  `He is an honest, hard-working, and capable young man, Mr Stonehouse,' Cripps said without hesitation. `May I say I believe the London agent chose him well.'

  It was an hour before they moved to the dining room, and two hours after that before the last of six superbly prepared courses had been eaten, and two bottles of fine claret consumed —most of it by Stonehouse. During that time, Stonehouse presented Cripps with a gold watch with a message of appreciation finely engraved on the back.

  Afterward, they returned to a table in the member's lounge. Cripps was drinking tea and Stonehouse was sipping port and puffing on a large cigar, when they were joined by Shamus McClintock, a long-time friend of Stonehouse's.

  Like Stonehouse, McClintock was an expatriate Scot. He was a grazier in his mid-fifties, tall and lean with a smooth-shaven, well chiseled face. He was in town for a few days from his property on the Darling Downs, over a hundred miles to the west.

  As a young man, McClintock had brought to the Downs, a sound practical knowledge of sheep, inherited from his forebears who had crofted successfully in the sparse unyielding Scottish Highlands for generations. He combined his knowledge with tenacity, determination, and a full measure of natural Scottish frugality to build an enviable pastoral empire. But Cripps could see on this visit to town, McClintock intended to put business matters aside, in favor of recreation and some serious drinking with Stonehouse.

  Stonehouse and McClintock were still drinking heavily when Stonehouse told Cripps to return to South Brisbane alone in the carriage, and afterwards to have his driver take Catherine home to Castlecraig with the message that he had decided to stay at the club overnight.

  *

  When her tall grey-haired butler showed the first two gentlemen callers of the evening into her private lounge, Madam Jane was pleasantly surprised to see that one of them was Alexander Stonehouse.

  `Why how wonderful Alex,' she said, `I was beginning to think we were never going to see you at The Gables again. She turned to the second man and smiled warmly. `I can see I have Shamus here to thank for this rare pleasure.'

  Stonehouse and McClintock sat down at each end of a long comfortable divan and made small talk with Madam Jane, while the butler poured cognac into three large snifters.

  As soon as the drinks were served the butler left the room, only to return almost immediately with an attractive young woman on each arm. One was dark haired, the other had long fair hair which reached down to her waist. Both girls were beautiful and immaculately presented, in figure flattering, off the shoulder dresses, with plunging neck-lines. Both smiled engagingly at the men on the divan.

  Madam Jane waved a hand toward the fair haired girl.

  `Alex... This lovely young lady is Gloria and her friend's name is Anne.' Madam Jane smiled knowingly at McClintock, `Shamus needs no introductions. He already knows both of these charming young ladies intimately.' The girls laughed politely. Madam Jane smiled and asked, `Who is to be the lucky one tonight Shamus?'

  McClintock feigned indecision. He stood up and put an arm around each girl. He drew them close, then sighed and said, `I just can't bring myself to disappoint either one of these sweet innocent creatures Jane. So I suppose I have no choice but to bed them both.'

  When McClintock had gone upstairs, Madam Jane moved from her chair and sat beside Stonehouse on the divan. She put a hand on his knee. `It's good to see you Alex. It's been such a long time. Once, you were often the first here, and the very last to leave. I remember when...'

  `I know... I know, Jane.But I'm not as young as I used to be. And I don't always get the same urges I used to. And I've got a tricky ticker to contend with. The doctor told me to give up the grog years ago, not to mention the cigars, or anything else...'

  Madam Jane got up and went to the liquor cabinet. She held up the cognac decanter. Stonehouse nodded. As she recharged the snifters she said, `Did you know Silas Moser was here a few months ago Alex?'

  Stonehouse laughed. `Go on! I wouldn't have thought Silas would come here unless your girls were paying him. That man won't do anything unless it turns a profit.'

  `That's why he was here—to make a profit. I thought perhaps you knew.'ﾁ

  `Knew what for heaven's sake?'

  `He sold me a Kanaka. A runaway from one of your ships'

  Stonehouse took his cognac from Madam Jane. `Kanakas on labor contracts are not supposed to be used as domestics,' he said and swirled the brandy around in the snifter.

  `Oh, she's not a domestic Alex. `I've trained her as one of my girls.'

  Stonehouse's eyebrows shot up. `My God...she must be a beauty.' He took a sip of brandy. `You know Jane, years ago, the first ship I owned was a labor ship. I sailed her myself. In those days I was quite partial to some of the island girls.'

  `You've told me all about that before Alex,' Madam Jane said. `
That's why I'm telling you about her. Her name is Kiri. I've only just finished training her. She hasn't been with any of the clients yet. I think you had better see her.'

  From the moment Stonehouse saw Kiri's lovely face, and her light brown skin, smooth as velvet, against a form-fitting pale yellow dress, something stirred inside him which had lain dormant for years. Upstairs in her room, when she let the dress fall to the floor, and he saw the perfection of her tall statuesque body, he was aroused to an intensity beyond his own belief.

  His breathing became heavy when she began to remove his clothing. Kiri let her hands wander from time to time, to explore and skillfully manipulate his body, in the precise way she had been shown by Madam Jane, pausing only to allow his hands to hungrily explore her own.

  Stonehouse's excitement rose and rose. He felt his heart begin to pound dangerously. Moments later as he lay flat on his back on her bed, he soared to a height of ecstasy he had long since forgotten existed. He groaned when she gently lowered herself onto him. He gasped when her slender brown body, glistening in the darkness, began to play upon his own, like a rare and beautiful Stradivari, stroking a firm but sensitive bow. When she began to move in rapidly quickening motions, Stonehouse wondered if his heart could possibly withstand the reverberations of the fast approaching crescendo. But by then he didn't care.

  Afterward, he lay exhausted beside her in the darkness. Not a word passed between them. When Stonehouse felt his heartbeat gradually returning to normal, he felt a rare elation. The island girl had taken him away, however briefly, from the gloom and shadows of his complicated middle-aged life, to the glaring sunshine of his carefree youth. He knew the experience had almost cost him his life. But he knew also that he would be prepared to risk it again, and soon.