`You already know what you have to do to make me happy Catherine,' Clare said, with a quick glance toward Charles. `And I certainly hope you will have an announcement to make in that regard well before the garden-party, as that will certainly be the very latest date by which I will have to make a decision regarding the sale of Stonehouse's to Mr Fairweather's interests in London.'
*
Mrs Llewellyn was startled when she heard the front door bell ring. There had been no visitors at all at Jarrah during the two weeks since Ben had paid off the yard workers, and he had begun anxiously awaiting the first available steamer to take him to Cooktown.
She opened the door to find two well dressed men standing outside on the veranda. The older of the two held a large brown envelope sealed with red wax in his hand.
`I have an important document for Mr Ben Luk,' the man with the envelope said stiffly. `I would like to give it to him personally. May I see him please?'
`I'm afraid he is not in the house, sir,' Mrs Llewellyn said. `He is somewhere on the property working his horse.' She held out her hand to take the envelope. `But I will give him your document just as soon as he returns.'
The man made no move to part with the brown envelope. `I'm afraid I must insist on giving it to him personally.'
`Very well,' Mrs Llewellyn said. `Please give me your name and tell me the nature of your business, and I'll send someone to find him and ask him if he will see you.'
`My name is Hiscock,' the man said. `And my associate and I are clerks from the law chambers of Fagle, Finch and Wutherspoon in Brisbane.'
`I see. Please wait here.Mrs Llewellyn closed the front door and went back into the house to tell Sky to go out and find his father.
It was a full fifteen minutes before Ben rode up to the house. `I am Ben Luk gentlemen,' Ben said, as he swung down from the saddle. `How may I help you?'
`Mr Luk.' Hiscock thrust the brown envelope into Ben's hands. `In that envelope is a letter of demand which is now legally served. It requires the sum of one thousand three hundred and eighty six pounds, four shillings and six pence, being the sum for which you are indebted to my client, to be paid at our chambers by the first day of August 1893. Failure to do so will result in my client, his servants or assigns, being able to enter upon this property, and take lawful possession of these lands and any chattels contained herein, by virtue of a mortgage my client holds over this property, which was given freely by yourself as security for the said debt.'
Ben was stunned.
`But there must be some mistake,' he said. `But I will try and speak with Mr Whitworth at the Queensland Imperial Bank immediately and straighten this matter out.'
Hiscock raised his eyebrows. `There is no mistake Mr Luk. And there is no point in talking with the bank.
Their interest in your property was extinguished when they sold your mortgage to my client.'
Ben's jaw tightened. `And who may I ask is your client?'
`The Stonehouse Shipping Company,' Hiscock replied. He raised a hand and touched his hat. `Good day, Mr Luk.'
*
The Stonehouse Shipping Company's coastal steamer Cape Bowling Green charged northward before a short steep following sea, whipped up by the thirty-knot south-east tradewind blowing squarely over her stern.
Ben stood on the heaving forward deck with the wind whistling around his ears. He clutched the rail with both hands while the vessel pitched and rolled as she rode the waves over the last few miles toward the mouth of the Endeavour River and Cooktown.
All along the coastline, the mountain ranges of Far North Queensland towered high in the morning sun. They stood above the pristine waters of the Great Barrier Reef like giant sentinels, guarding the wild and rugged interior of Cape York Peninsula, untouched by white men until the discovery of gold on the Palmer River just a generation before.
An hour later the engines of the Cape Bowling Green groaned under the strain when she took the seas beam-on in order to round Grassy Hill, the high headland on the south shore of the entrance to the Endeavour River.
Once in the lee of Grassy Hill, the steamer no longer had to fight the roaring tradewind. Her engines were eased back, and she gently pushed her way down the narrow, calm channel to the Stonehouse Shipping Company wharf, which lay a stone's throw from the settlement of Cooktown.
Ben went ashore in bushman's clothing: shirt-sleeves, tough cord trousers, comfortable boots, and a wide-brimmed hat.
As soon as his mare was led down onto the dock he harnessed and saddled her, then slung his saddlebags, holstered carbine, and stock-whip over her back. He choose not to mount up right away, but led the horse the short distance into town by the bridle, allowing her time to regain her land-legs.
Cooktown was a far cry from the goldrush tent-town which had sprung up overnight in the wilderness when Ben had first arrived there as a boy with his father. But now, despite a new air of permanence, Ben found it pretty much the same way as he left it a decade earlier.
Charlotte Street, the long wide main street of the town, was still strewn with scores of hotels, banks, brothels, and dingy watering holes. On each side of the street, scores of small shop-fronts were actively trading in spite of the more opulent-looking bank buildings having been boarded up tight since the start of the colony's financial crisis.
Most of the stores were owned by Chinese traders. As Ben passed by they sang out and beckoned to him, urging him to enter their dim smoky establishments to view their goods and stock in trade.
It was now early afternoon, and Ben was anxious to begin his journey down the rugged Palmer Road, through more than a hundred miles of hilly, rocky scrub to the Palmer River goldfields. He reached the Lucky Strike Hotel near the centre of town. A dozen or more men drinking on the hotel's wide veranda silently watched his passing, languishing in the comfort of old straw chairs.
Next-door to the hotel was a well-stocked general store with all kinds of merchandise displayed for sale. Ben tied his horse to the rail and went inside. As he did, he noticed two big men get up from their chairs on the hotel veranda and saunter over toward his mare. Both men were unkempt and rough-looking, with long hair and bearded faces. They looked enough alike to be brothers, except one man's hair was a ratty brown while the other's was the pure white of an Albino.
An old wrinkled Chinese stood behind the counter of the store. He greeted Ben with a near toothless smile.
`I am in need of a number of things,' Ben said. `I shall just walk about if I may, and pick out what I require.But I have a mare outside carrying valuable personal possessions. I would be grateful if someone would watch her while I am inside your store.'
The old Chinese called out loudly, and when a young boy emerged from a back room, he shouted a few rapid words in Chinese. He turned back to Ben. `My grandson will keep his eye on your horse and he will sing out if anyone takes more than a passing interest in it.'
Ben walked amongst the merchandise and picked out various goods and began carrying them up to the counter. His pile of purchases included: ammunition for his rifle, a short shovel, a lantern and oil, water bottles, a ground-sheet and blankets, matches, a tin tea-billy, a mug and plate, a knife, a fork, a tin opener, an assortment of dried and tinned food, and two additional large leather saddlebags.
When the store-keeper was tallying up the bill the boy standing at the door called out excitedly. `Whitey Flannigan has his hands on the gentleman's rifle Grandfather!'
Ben bounded to the door. When he swung it open the Albino spun around, and quickly took his hands off the stock of the carbine. He slowly backed away from Ben's mare and cleared his throat noisily, then spat what he gathered into the main street dust.
`No harm done, mate,' the albino said, `I was just admirin' yer rifle. Snider ain't it?Native Mounted Police used 'em for years killin' Abo's in these parts.' He shifted his eyes to the storekeeper and grinned. `Of course, white men like to use `em for killin' Chinks.'
Ben watched the two louts slowly return to their
chairs on the veranda, and waited until they resumed drinking before he went back inside the store. He quickly gathered his supplies together, then reached into his shirt pocket and produced a small roll of banknotes.
The old store-keeper eyed the banknotes warily. `With all the banks closed in Cooktown Sir, I would prefer if you would pay me in gold.'
`But I have no gold,' Ben replied.
`Then I will take the banknotes for now.' The old store-keeper looked up at Ben and smiled politely. `But I can see you are a gentleman, sir. When you return to Cooktown, I will expect you to take these notes back and give me gold in exchange.'
Ben looked puzzled. `But I...'
`Please, Mister...'
`My name is Ben Luk.'
`Please, Mr Luk,no explanation is needed. Your purchases have told me the purpose of your visit to Cooktown. You have bought enough food for a two or three week journey. There is but one road leading out of Cooktown. It leads to the Palmer River. It is possible a man with a good horse may just get in and out in that time. You have not asked me in which direction the road lies, which tells me you have been here before.But no digger ever travels that hellish road twice in the same direction—unless he returns for something he left behind. ' The old face crinkled into a grin. `The small shovel you have purchased tells me you have little digging to do at the end of the Palmer Road, Mr Luk. But I think your labor will be fruitful. Why else would you buy extra saddlebags only to carry them empty on your outward journey?'
Ben smiled wryly and put a hand on the Chinaman's shoulder. `I have indeed been here before, old man. And your intelligence reminds me of another old Chinaman who's grave I shall visit on the Palmer River.' Ben swung most of his supplies over his shoulders and made for the door. The little store-keeper trotting along behind him carrying his shovel and blankets. Ben stopped at the door and said, `It is important I return to Cooktown within twenty days in order to catch the steamer Cape Bowling Green when she calls here on her return run to Brisbane from Thursday Island. I shall give you your gold then.'
Outside on the street, the store-keeper glanced up at the hotel veranda and said softly:
`Mr Luk,a word of caution. Times are as hard in Cooktown as anywhere in the Colony.Men like Pat and Whitey Flannigan have time on their hands. They see the travelers who come to Cooktown aboard the steamers, and they will stop at nothing to profit from them. They are larrikins, but they are not stupid. When they see you mount your horse with these supplies and head off down the Palmer Road, they will quickly reach the same conclusions as I did.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Royal Mail Line's SS Sovereign arrived at Brisbane's Newstead wharf exactly on schedule on a balmy afternoon in early July. It was the vessel's maiden voyage, and she looked little the worse for wear after her seven week passage from London on the Indian Ocean route through the Suez Canal.
Percival Augustus Fairweather, white haired and immaculate, was one of the first passengers to disembark down the first class gang-plank.Silas Moser and Charles were on hand to meet him, and drove him directly to Castlecraig where he was greeted warmly by Clare and Catherine.
Fairweather's tall frame stooped as he bent to kiss Clare's hand. `What a pleasure it is to meet you at last, madam. When Catherine was in England she spoke often of her home in Brisbane. When I saw this magnificent house from the deck of the Sovereign as we came upstream earlier in the day, I knew it must be Castlecraig.
Clare Stonehouse beamed. `Our home is your home for the duration of your visit to the colony Mr Fairweather, and please ...'
`Oh, please call me Percival.'
Clare's face continued to beam. `Oh, thank you... Percival. As I was about to say, please come and go just as you wish during your visit with us, and please don't stand on ceremony. I know you have many important matters to attend to. Now, you must be very weary.' She signaled to Jenkins. `Jenkins will show you to your room, and look after your every need. And after you have rested I do hope you will join us for dinner.'
At dinner that evening, Fairweather expressed an interest in seeing Stonehouse's and the frozen meat terminal first hand. The next morning he accompanied Charles in his carriage for the journey to the South Brisbane wharf.
`You and Silas have accomplished a great deal over the past few years since we met last Charles,' Fairweather said as the carriage made its way into town alongside the Brisbane River.
`The credit is entirely due to Silas.' Charles said. `I have merely carried out the administration necessary to implement his farsighted plans.'
`Oh come, Charles, you are too modest. I was most impressed with the manner in which you carried out your responsibilities when you were in London. Your kind of competence, and attention to detail is hard to come by in commerce these days.' Fairweather paused for a moment, then said, `Tell me, how would you feel if the company were to change hands?'
Charles shrugged. `Well, I ...'
'I take it you know I have been empowered to negotiate for the purchase of Stonehouse's by London shipping interests,' Fairweather continued without waiting for an answer. 'And that Clare is prepared to listen to whatever propositions I may make on their behalf.'
`A transfer of the stock of the company to London would make very little difference to me personally,' Charles replied, `just as long as I remain a part of it all.'
`Oh, you could be sure of that, Charles. Your presence in the firm was one of the main reasons I recommended Stonehouse's when I was retained by my client to assist in the acquisition of an Australian steamship line with an existing frozen meat trade. And I have told them that I feel it is most important, should Stonehouse's be taken over, that you remain with the firm at the highest level of management.'
Charles looked surprised. `Why thank you, Percival. I certainly appreciate that.'
`And how does Silas feel about it all?'
`I'm afraid you will have to ask him about that.'
`Your quite right, Charles. I'm having lunch with him today at the Colonial Club. I intend to pursue the matter at some length, and also discuss the general state of affairs in the colony. I just thought I would let you know what is happening.'
They continued on in silence for a few minutes. Then Charles asked the question that had been at the tip of his tongue since the moment Fairweather had stepped off the SS Sovereign the previous day.
`And how is your niece, Vivian?'
Fairweather rubbed his jaw. `We don't see a lot of Vivian these days. In fact since she returned to England after she was mixed up in that Exeter Hall Society business, she has been living in seclusion in a small cottage in the country somewhere in Hampshire.'
`Has she remarried?' Charles asked.He tried to sound politely disinterested, his eyes gazing out from the carriage window.
`Oh heaven's no. And it's not likely she will.'
`Then I take it she has family in Hampshire?' Charles persisted.
`No.' Fairweather sighed. `She lives all alone except for her young son of course.'
Taken completely by surprise, Charles turned to Fairweather in amazement. `Her son...?'
`Yes, he'll be almost five years old now. She never told us much. Except that she met a man on board ship when she was travelling to Australia. As we both know it's a long passage. Travel these days on steamers, I suppose can be quite romantic. She was an attractive widow. Apparently he was a married man, and obviously quite unprincipled. The affair of course, was the reason she returned home almost immediately after arriving here in Australia. With Vivian being an old school chum of Catherine's, I suppose you all must have wondered why she left so suddenly. One thing Vivian did tell us, was that she was too ashamed to visit Castlecraig.'
Charles felt his mouth go suddenly dry. He turned and stared out the window again without saying a word.
`My wife and I have always thought how unfortunate it was that you returned to Queensland directly from the Clyde,' Fairweather continued. `If you and Vivian had travelled to Queensland aboard the same vessel, th
e whole tragedy may well have been avoided.'
Charles continued to avoid Fairweather's eyes, and was grateful a few moments later, when the carriage pulled up at Stonehouse's. He alighted quickly and led Percival Fairweather directly to Silas Moser's office.
*
It wasn't until Percival Fairweather and Silas Moser had finished luncheon in the dining room of the Colonial Club, and returned to the comfort of the member's lounge for port, that Fairweather broached the subject of the sale of Stonehouse's.
`I can only say Silas, that I am greatly impressed with everything I have seen at South Brisbane today. In fact in these difficult times, I think it would be most unlikely if I were to find another maritime company in Australia performing as well as Stonehouse's.'
`Why thank you, Percival.' Moser said modestly. He leaned back in his easy chair, with his port glass cradled between his bony fingers, and awaited Fairweather's next move.
`Because of my long association with Stonehouse's,' Fairweather continued, `I am of course, already privy to the financial position of the company, and am well aware of its remarkable profitability. And that fact has greatly simplified the decision-making process with respect to the British Far East Steam Navigation Company wishing to buy the firm.'
Moser's eyebrows rose in surprise. `British Far Eastern....' For a moment he savored the connotations, then said drily, and without humility, `As one of the world's great shipping companies, I have to take British Far Eastern's interest in Stonehouse's as attestation to my management over the years, at least since Alexander's death.'
`So you should, Silas. And if Stonehouse's becomes part of such a large international concern, it would just be a matter of time, and sound management of course, before it becomes the largest shipping company in Australia.' Fairweather spoke slowly, his tone persuasive. `Now tell me, Silas, providing the price is acceptable, can you see any reason why a sale of at least a majority of the stock could not be negotiated?'
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