She found Maryann Fairlie in the laundry.
“You.” Maryann tossed the sheet she was scrubbing back into the tub and looked up and down at Grace’s uniform. “You’re here by choice? What’s the matter with you?”
“Just want to be of use.” Grace drew in her breath. “Are you all right? You and the children? Healthy?”
Maryann nodded faintly. “Daniel. Did they find him?”
Grace wound her finger around the corner of her apron. “Last I saw he was headed into the bush.”
“Stupid scab,” said Maryann. “Don’t he know there’s nothing out there? A man can’t survive in that place. Not alone.” She plunged her arms back into the tub and began to scrub at the sheet with a new ferocity. Suds cascaded down her legs. Finally, she turned back to Grace. “And your Alexander?”
Grace looked down. “Alexander’s gone.”
“Well,” Maryann said brassily. “If you ask me, it’s good riddance to the both of them.” But her eyes met Grace’s in a moment of unspoken grief. She turned back to her washing. “I’m being assigned. Housekeeper to some toff in Campbell Town. Emma and her brother are being kept here at the factory. They’ll be sent to the orphanage when they’re old enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Grace mumbled.
Maryann put a soapy hand out and grabbed her wrist. “You’ll take care of them, won’t you? You’ll make sure they’re all right?”
“Of course.”
“And you’ll tell them about me? Only the good things. Don’t tell them what I done to end up here. Just tell them I love them.”
Grace nodded. “Every day.”
She’d been at the factory a week when the overseer found her in the nursery. She took the baby from Grace’s arms. “You got a visitor.”
Harris was waiting outside the front gates. He wore a frock coat and silk scarf and looked very much the man who had plucked her from the mop fair so many years ago. Grace drew in her breath and stepped through the gates.
They stood without speaking for a long time, the silence loaded with regret and unspoken apologies. Finally, Harris cleared his throat.
“There’s a piano at home, Gracie. I hoped you might like to play it.”
She managed a faint smile. “Home, Sweet Home.”
Harris took a step towards her and tucked a strand of hair beneath her cap. “What are you doing working in this dreadful place?”
“I need a purpose. Something to put my mind to.”
The guard at the entrance eyed them curiously. Harris took her arm and led her away from the gates. He stepped close and touched her cheek. “Come home and put your mind to being my wife. To being Nora’s mother.”
“You want me around Nora?”
“She needs you. So do I.” He smiled. “You’re part of my great adventure. Come home with me now and I’ll see you never need work another day in your life.”
“I want to work,” said Grace. “It’s all I know. I can’t just sit on my arse and watch the grass grow.”
Harris grinned.
“I’m needed here in a way I ain’t needed in that house. You got Jessie doing all the chores. Nora’s off at school. And James, all those empty rooms you built, they’ll never be filled with children.”
Something passed over Harris’s eyes. And in that second, Grace saw he too carried his own deep guilt and regret. He took her hand.
“Grace…” He swallowed hard, then met her eyes hopefully. “So perhaps you’ll come back to the house with me tonight. And when you’re due to work with these children, I’ll have Samuel bring you back in the carriage. What do you say?”
XXXIII
He’d seen the marines coming.
So the gallows would find him at last. With blurred vision, he watched Grace disappear down the path towards the docks. A fitting end, he thought. She who had brought him back to life would also bring about his death.
He crawled across the deck on his knees. Tried to stand, but the brandy she had poured down his throat tangled his thoughts and weakened his legs. The ship felt unfamiliar. Distorted.
Here came the marines; their footsteps like drums. Dalton’s heart raced. He readied himself. The soldiers charged onto the ship on the other side of the island.
Dalton looked about him. And he understood.
This was no migrant ship. A face peered down at him; the brown, sea-hardened face of the whaling captain.
Grace had seen the marines coming too, he realised. Backed him up the whaler’s gangway and given him the chance to disappear.
Dalton heard the marines shouting to the crew of the Enchantress. He dug into his pocket and pulled out Howell’s pouch, still half full with coins. He tossed it at the whaling captain’s feet.
“Hide me.”
The whaler picked up the pouch and peered inside. He pulled Dalton to his feet and shoved him into the forecastle.
When the captain opened the hatch, they were at sea. Dalton stepped out into the grey light. Hobart Town was disappearing. Fading into the shadow of the mountains and being pulled slowly over the horizon.
New Zealand, the whalers had told him. Tahiti. Strange names, foreign places.
The sky opened. Down fell great marbles of rain that made the deck slick and black. Thunder rolled and jagged light ripped through the clouds.
Dalton gripped the gunwale and turned his face to the sky. He closed his eyes. Imagined the feel of her hands on his cheeks, the blade of his whittling knife sliding through his beard. With each roll of the ship, the distance between them grew. He felt an ache deep inside him.
But then he opened his eyes. Van Diemen’s Land had vanished behind a sea of cloud. Dalton felt a great weight dissolve from his chest. A heaviness that had been there so long he had ceased to be aware of it. He felt his breathing deepen. Felt the memories of seven dead men begin to lose their sharpness.
The haunted forest had released him.
Around him were men who knew nothing of his past. Ahead of him, an endless ocean on which Alexander Dalton and his crimes might finally be forgotten. A great wave of gratitude swept over him.
So, my Grace, he thought, you couldn’t save your Violet, but you have saved a man who had been beyond redemption.
Remember this. And find something close to absolution.
Historical Note
When Alexander Pearce was captured in 1823 and confessed to the murder and cannibalism of his fellow escapees, there were few in the colony who believed him. Pearce’s confession was seen as an attempt to cover for his mates who most believed were living as bushrangers. Pearce was sent back to Macquarie Harbour where he escaped again, this time with young convict Thomas Cox. When they reached the Gordon River, Pearce discovered Cox was unable to swim and killed him with a swing of the axe. Pearce then gave himself up at the King River (near present-day Strahan) and was discovered to be carrying human flesh in his pocket. Pearce was taken back to Hobart Town for execution and his tales of cannibalism began to be taken seriously.
There are several inconsistencies in the confessions of Pearce, mostly concerning Alexander Dalton. In his first confession at Macquarie Harbour, Pearce claimed there had been four murder victims; Thomas Bodenham, John Mather, Matthew Travers and finally, Robert Greenhill, whom Pearce had killed single-handedly to avoid his own murder. According to Pearce, the remaining three escapees— William Kennerley, Ned Brown and Dalton— fled the group in fear for their lives with an intent to return to Macquarie Harbour.
Kennerley and Brown returned alone to the harbour and were either unable or unwilling to shed any light on why Dalton was no longer with them. They died of starvation soon after arriving.
But in Pearce’s confession to the Rev. Thomas Knopwood in Hobart Town, the details of the story had changed. It was Dalton, Pearce claimed, not Bodenham, who had been Greenhill’s first victim, chosen as the sacrifice as he had been given the role of a flogger at Sarah Island.
What could have accounted for such glaring discrepancies in Pearce’s con
fessions? Had the details been blurred by time and immense mental and physical stress? Or did Pearce feel the need to confess his involvement in a fifth murder before his impending execution? Either way, it seems impossible we will ever know the true fate of Alexander Dalton.
What we do know is that Dalton, a twenty-three-year-old soldier from Kilkenny, Ireland, was transported to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) in 1820 after being sentenced at Gibraltar Court Martial. In this era, no records were kept of convicts’ initial crimes (to avoid judgement in the colonies from overseers and fellow prisoners), but as Dalton received a sentence of fourteen years’ transportation, we can surmise he committed a crime such as armed robbery, forgery or assault. Such crimes were often punishable by death, with many convicts — possibly including Dalton— having their sentence transmuted from hanging to transportation.
On his arrival in Van Diemen’s Land, Dalton committed a series of misdemeanours, including perjuring against his fellow convict Michael Flannagan in 1822. It was for this crime that Dalton was sent to Sarah Island Penitentiary at Macquarie Harbour, which would forever be known as one of Australia’s most brutal penal settlements.
Grace, Harris and all other characters are purely fictitious.
Acknowledgements
The biggest thank you to my brilliant sister Ally for all your help in writing this book. Thanks so much for your psychology expertise, advice, feedback and for trawling through possibly the worst first draft of all time!
To my editor, Heather Osborne, thank you so much- your help and feedback has been invaluable.
Huge thanks also to Julia Kolyanda for the fantastic map, Adrijus for the beautiful cover and Chloe Keegan, my Gaelic dictionary.
To Danny Ransley at the National Trust of Australia, thank you so much for your enthusiasm, knowledge and for taking me back to 1830s Hobart.
Finally, thank you as always to Davis for your endless support, advice and boy-reads. Sorry there was no shanking…
About the Author
Johanna Craven is an Australian-born writer, pianist and film composer. She has lived in Melbourne and Los Angeles and is currently based in London. She loves ghost hunting, cooking (and eating) and playing the Celtic fiddle.
Johanna released her first novel Music From Standing Waves in 2015, before signing with Endeavour Press for her second book The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.
Check out Johanna's books and music at https://www.johannacraven.com and join her reader group to keep up to date with her new releases. You can also follow her on Twitter and Facebook.
Table of Contents
FORGOTTEN PLACES
VAN DIEMEN'S LAND
PART ONE
DERWENT VALLEY, VAN DIEMEN’S LAND
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
PART TWO
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
PART THREE
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII
XXXIII
Historical Note
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Forgotten Places Page 24