‘Your aunt will be glad to see you,’ her eyes
held his, ‘but you will not forget those at home, will you? Your mother and father will be anxious for news of you.’
‘I won’t forget, Mrs Boyle, and you will visit us in Yorkshire?’
‘Yes, indeed. After a month or so, when my family and I have exchanged all of our news and events, then Phoebe and I shall travel and visit old friends and hopefully make new ones.’
Phoebe turned to Jack. ‘And what about you, Jack? What do you hope to find in England that isn’t in Australia?’ Her voice was rather tight and irritable.
He gazed at her and said quietly, ‘I shan’t know until I find it, Miss Boyle. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps what I am seeking, I have already found.’
‘Huh,’ she muttered. ‘I hate riddles.’ She shivered. ‘It’s cold, I’m going back to the cabin.’
‘Allow me to walk with you?’ Jack said. ‘I must look for my gloves.’
Ralph and Mrs Boyle watched their progress back along the deck. ‘I’m worried about her,’ Mrs Boyle murmured. ‘I don’t think she will settle in England. There will be too many restrictions.’
‘Settle?’ he said in surprise and dismay. ‘But it is for a short time only, surely? Six, nine months? Will you stay longer than that?’
She turned away to look at the approaching harbour. ‘I don’t really know, Ralph. I don’t know if I can tear myself away a second time.’
Ralph and Jack watched as the carriage carrying Mrs Boyle and Phoebe moved off from the quayside. They had been introduced to Mrs Boyle’s brother and his wife, and Ralph had noted the look of anger on Phoebe’s face when her uncle had drawn back in astonishment from Jack’s presence and inclusion in the party.
‘Are we going to come across trouble, I wonder,’ he murmured, half to himself.
‘Of course,’ Jack replied, his eyes on the carriage vanishing into the distance. ‘At least I am. But it is what I am used to, so we won’t worry about it. If there is trouble you must try to disappear. I can look after myself.’
Their next destination was London, to visit the bank on behalf of Ralph’s father. Joe had arranged that Ralph could draw money from an account whilst he was in England, so they tried to negotiate for a hire carriage to take them there.
‘You’ll have to pay up front, sir,’ the cabby said, ‘and yon black fellow will have to travel outside.’
‘No,’ Ralph said firmly. ‘He travels inside or we take our business elsewhere.’
‘Sorry, sir. Can’t do that. My other passengers would object if they thought a blackie had been sitting on the seat.’
Ralph clenched his fists and made to answer, but Jack interrupted. ‘All right, cabby. Don’t worry yourself about it. But perhaps you can tell
me where I can buy a chaise? That’ll be the thing to do. What about it?’ He turned towards Ralph. ‘Do you fancy a ride to London in a nice fast buggy?’
‘Why not?’ Ralph relaxed and grinned. ‘Do you have sufficient money about you?’
‘Enough for half a dozen or so, and change enough for supper.’ The two young men walked away side by side, leaving the cabby with his mouth wide open.
At the bank the commissionaire put his hand on Jack’s shoulder to prevent his entry. ‘What is your business here?’ he growled.
Jack wrapped his fingers around the man’s wrist and his other hand he put on his chest, easing him away. ‘None of yours,’ he said quietly and tightened his finger grip.
The commissionaire winced. ‘Beg pardon,’ he muttered through clenched teeth.
‘I didn’t quite catch – ?’ Jack stared him in the eyes.
‘Beg pardon,
sir.
’
Jack nodded and dropped his hold and followed Ralph towards the desk where the tellers were watching. Ralph concluded his business and then said, ‘My friend wishes to open an account here.’
‘I, er, I’ll have to get the manager, sir,’ the teller stammered and hurried away.
The manager bowed respectfully to Ralph. ‘So pleased to meet you, Mr Hawkins. Your father has given us the satisfaction of his custom for
many years now, though we have not had the pleasure of meeting him.’
‘You’re not likely to,’ Ralph said lazily. ‘He can’t come back to England. He’s an ex-convict, you know. Sent out for punishment and made his fortune.’ He smiled thinly at the unfortunate man’s discomfort. ‘Look after my companion will you? We’re getting a little tired of waiting.’
‘Of course, of course.’ The bank manager glanced condescendingly at Jack. ‘Now how much would you like to deposit? And shall I put it in your own name or in your master’s?’
Jack looked at him coldly and took a small leather drawstring purse from his coat pocket. He slowly undid the cord and opened the purse, then threw it onto the desk in front of the startled teller. A small shower of gold dust fell out onto the mahogany. ‘Weigh it first,’ he said softly, ‘and tell me how much there is. You know we black fellahs can’t read or write or add up.’
The teller looked up at the manager who hastily said, ‘Perhaps if you would come into my office sir, we can be private there.’
Jack crooked his finger at the clerk to give back the purse, then smiled. ‘Wouldn’t want to lose any, would we? I should have to go back home and dig up some more!’
‘Snivelling, mealy-mouthed dingo,’ Ralph griped as they came out of the bank and walked towards their chaise.
‘We know it’s what happens,’ Jack said in a matter-of-fact manner and took the driving
seat. ‘And no amount of gold dust will make a difference.’
Ralph glanced at his friend as they moved off. Somehow, in this ancient city of London, Jack seemed out of place. Even in his fine clothes, he looked more native than ever he did in Sydney where he blended with the landscape. That is his land, Ralph thought. He belongs there. Why did he want to come here, to England?
‘Many years ago,’ Jack said, and it was as if he had been listening to Ralph’s thoughts, ‘an Aborigine, Bennelong, learned the English language and wore English clothes. He was befriended by the Governor and brought to England. He was taken to parties and functions and displayed as an object of curiosity for people to look at and marvel at.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘There are many stories about him that have passed down the years,’ Jack replied. ‘But I was also told about him by my tutor. He told me that although I would have an education, because I was of mixed blood I would be like Bennelong was at the end of his life, belonging to neither one race or another.’ He clicked his tongue to move the mare along. The streets were crowded with traffic. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
‘We’ll look for an inn.’ Ralph glanced about him. ‘We’ll probably be turned away from the hotels.’
‘He also said’, Jack continued, ‘that I must find a native woman to marry if I wanted the
Aborigine race to continue, otherwise we would be wiped out.’
‘Is that what you will do?’ Ralph asked, and then grinned. ‘You won’t find an Englishman willing to give his pale-faced daughter to you anyway.’
‘That’s true,’ Jack agreed. ‘But perhaps I will marry an Englishwoman who needs my wealth and I can still father children with an Aborigine woman. We are not bound to one woman as you Englishmen are.’
‘Here, try this place.’ Ralph pointed to a small inn on a corner of a street. ‘It looks all right. But,’ he said as he climbed down, ‘I still say you’ll never find an Englishwoman to marry you under those terms. Besides, she’d be ostracized. It’s accepted if a white man takes a native woman, but never a white woman marrying a black native.’
‘He also said – my teacher,’ Jack continued as they walked to the inn door, ‘that I should come to England and then go back home to teach my native brothers about another way of life.’
‘So that’s why you have come?’
Jack grinned and opened the door, inviting Ralph to enter first. ‘No, sir, I just knows you can’t manage widdout your faithful Jack!’
THEY WERE GIVEN
comfortable accommodation at the inn and the landlord made no fuss about Jack, though they had to pay in advance for their rooms. The other guests were a mixed crowd ranging from seamen to travellers in merchandise and passengers of public transport who were stopping overnight on their journeys.
After a good supper, they retired early to bed, with Ralph intent on starting his search for details of his mother the next day.
All night Jack tossed and turned, disturbed by the sounds of the constant traffic which passed the inn. As dawn slid through the thin curtains with silver-grey fingers, he got out of bed and taking a blanket, he lay down on the floor by the fire. He gazed with a fixed stare into the flickering flames until his eyes closed and he entered his dreaming world.
He was in a narrow boat with other natives, all of them naked except for their loincloths. In his hands he gripped a pair of oars and he pulled in
unison with his fellows across a vast expanse of water where there was no sign of land.
There was sweat on his brow and blisters on the palms of his hands and he grunted and chanted in unison with the other rowers. Then he looked up. A great wall of water barred their way, higher than twenty men standing on each other’s shoulders. No, more: higher than forty, fifty men, and their boat was rapidly approaching the heart of it. Harder they pulled and it was as if the wall was sucking them in, and as Jack looked upwards, the crest of the wave broke and avalanched towards them.
He was washed out of the boat and plunged into a tunnel of blue-green water which led him to the bottom of the ocean. There he saw all manner of wondrous fishes and shiny red coral, before being tossed upwards on a foaming white crest and carried towards a white sandy shore. As he lay exhausted and panting he felt the relentless sea slapping his face and shoulders.
‘Jack. Wake up.’ Someone was gently slapping his face. ‘Wake up, we’ve overslept.’
He sat up. The fire was almost out and Ralph was standing over him, shaking his arm. ‘You were dead to the world,’ he said.
Jack ran his hand across his forehead. ‘I was,’ he said. ‘To this one, anyway.’
After breakfast they went to the Home Office to enquire about lists of female convicts. They were sent to look at the transportation register books and then at the Assize agenda books. They
found the name of Rose Elizabeth Scott and brief details that she had been found guilty at York Crown Court of attempted murder.
Ralph stared down at the page. There she was. No longer just a name he had been given, but proof that she had been living and had committed, or tried to commit, a horrendous crime. Why? he asked himself. Why did she do it? And who did she try to kill?
‘Where can I find out more?’ he asked the clerk.
‘What do you wish to know, sir? The indictment?’
‘Yes. Who accused her. Who she tried to kill, and the names of witnesses.’
They waited whilst the clerk trawled through various record books, until finally he said, ‘Unfortunately there is nothing more than I have already given you. There were so many convicts, and not all the records survived.’ He closed up his book. ‘You will have to go to York, sir, if you need more information.’ He gazed at Ralph. ‘Is it important that you find out about this woman? She may be dead, you know, women didn’t always survive the journey.’
‘It is important,’ Ralph replied grimly, ‘and I know that she didn’t survive.’
‘Let’s sell the chaise,’ Jack said as they climbed aboard. ‘We’ll buy two good horses and ride to York.’ He knew intuitively that Ralph was downcast and guessed that an invigorating ride would dispel his despondency.
‘We could go by train,’ Ralph replied. ‘It wouldn’t take so long.’
‘No,’ Jack said. ‘We shall see the country better by horse. I may never come again.’ He was anxious to get away from this noisy bustling city. His head was bursting from the shouts of tradesmen, the clamour of wheels, the clatter of carriages and barking of dogs. This city was far busier then Sydney ever was and he felt hemmed in. He wanted to look towards the horizon, to see space and sky. ‘I want to go home and tell my brothers what this country is like.’
Ralph was in no mood to argue. But what was he going to find in York that he didn’t already know? That his mother had tried to kill someone and to atone for her sins had committed the ultimate sin of suicide.
‘I need a driver,’ said the merchant who was interested in buying the chaise and the mare. He looked towards Jack. ‘Does the blackie need another job?’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ Ralph said sourly. ‘He stays with me.’ And he gained ultimate satisfaction in handing over to Jack the cash for the sale in front of the merchant.
Ralph’s temper improved as they set out on their journey north. They took their time and stayed overnight at inns on the way. In the small towns and villages they were treated with respectful curiosity and as they clattered into the cobbled streets of York on the afternoon of the fourth day, were immediately charmed by it.
The bells of the Minster were pealing as if in welcome and the sun glinted on the waters of the River Ouse. The streets were narrow and buildings were close together, many houses were half-timbered with oversailing top storeys, and there was a sweet aroma in the air.
They found an inn for the night where they were given a good supper of meat pie. Ralph drank a glass of ale but Jack asked for water, keeping to his promise of never again drinking alcohol. The next day whilst Jack took himself off to explore the city, Ralph, in some trepidation, went to the Law Courts to search the repositories for the deposition in the case of Rose Elizabeth Scott.
‘Here it is, sir.’ The clerk handed him a dusty volume with his finger marking the entry. ‘Rose Elizabeth Scott,’ he read out, ‘the accused, charged with attempted murder of her husband, Edward Scott, man of business. Witness, Mrs Dorothy West. Accused found guilty, sentenced to ten years transportation.’
Ralph’s face flushed and he felt his heart beat faster. Her husband! His father? Was he still alive and if he was, would he want to see his son?
He went outside and sat down on the stone steps wondering what to do next. He could attempt to find Edward Scott, that wouldn’t be too difficult if he was living in or around York. But would he want to see a son who suddenly turned up from the other side of the world? And
did Rose and Edward Scott have any other children?