The Gold Seekers (22 page)

Inwardly taken aback by the shortness of the notice, Red contrived to hide his feelings. He would have to repair on board at once, he knew, probably precluding him from making the call he had planned on the De Lanceys, but …

“Certainly, sir,” he acknowledged with restraint. “If that is your wish, we shall be ready to receive you.”

“Good,” Captain Skinner approved. He selected a cigar from a box at his elbow, lit it, and settled comfortably back in his chair. “Now, let’s hear about your passage, and perhaps you can explain the absence of the new dockyard superintendent you were bringing out—name of Lucas, was it not?— Captain Benjamin Lucas. All right, all right,” he said as Red hesitated. “I don’t want an official report yet—that’ll do later. I only want to know why he’s not here. They tell me he was taken ill. Is that so?”

“Yes, sir, that is so,” Red confirmed, wondering from whom his interrogator had learned of Lucas’s absence—in spite of the fact that a prior, and seemingly more important, engagement had kept him from boarding the Galah the previous day. In a flat, carefully controlled voice Red embarked on his explanation.

“Captain Lucas was taken seriously ill, sir, whilst we were still in southern latitudes. He suffered an infection of the lungs and, I surmise, pneumonia. My ship carries only a young surgeon’s mate, lacking in experience. He did the best he could, and I assisted him to the best of my ability, but—”

Captain Skinner cut him short with an impatient wave of his cigar. “So you decided to make for Perth, Western Australia, in order that the captain might receive skilled medical treatment?”

Red nodded. “Exactly, sir. In view of the gravity of Captain Lucas’s condition, that seemed to me the only course I could pursue. I—” Skinner again silenced him.

“But you decided arbitrarily to set him ashore at Fremantle, with his wife, and contrary to their wishes?”

Red stared at him, frowning, the conviction growing that his new superior had been told a distorted version of the facts, by … He stiffened.

“On the advice of the port medical officer at Fremantle, Captain Lucas was transferred to hospital in the town of Perth, sir.”

“Against his wishes, Commander Broome?” the captain snapped accusingly. “And those of Mrs. Lucas?” Before Red could answer him, he produced some sheets of paper from a folder on his desk and, selecting one, laid it face upward between them. The writing on it was in the round, childish hand of Dora Lucas, but without permitting him time to read more than the opening sentence, Captain Skinner snatched it up again. “In this letter, which was delivered to me this morning by one of your officers, Mrs. Lucas lays certain damaging charges against you, Commander. These are confirmed, in writing, by the officer in question.”

“By Lieutenant De Lancey?” Red offered, his mouth tightening angrily.

“Ah, so you are aware of Lieutenant De Lancey’s complaints?” Skinner challenged. “Quite obviously you must also be aware that he is a son of one of our most respected citizens—His Honor Judge De Lancey?”

“I am, sir, yes.” Red kept a rein on his growing anger. He had been quite unprepared for Francis De Lancey’s action, but in the circumstances, he reflected wryly, perhaps he should not have been. The boy would be afraid to tell his father the truth, and even more reluctant, probably, to confess that he had sought to resign his commission and abandon his career in the navy without good reason. But even so … He started to speak, but once again Captain Skinner’s half-smoked cigar described a repressive circle.

“It is as well that you decided to call on me here, Commander Broome,” he observed. “Here, in the privacy of my office, we can talk the matter over between ourselves, can we not? I’ll hear your side of this, ah, unfortunate affair and then make up my mind as to whether or not it will be necessary to hold an official inquiry into it. As I am sure you will realize, serious charges have been made against you, which, if they are proven, will require me to relieve you of your command. I shall not take that decision lightly, you may rest assured … and not until after I have made my inspection of the Galah and seen for myself the state of, ah, morale of your officers and ship’s company. That is why I intend to make my inspection without delay.”

It was now with extreme difficulty that Red managed to refrain from an indignant outburst. Somehow he contrived to do so and to ask in an expressionless voice, “May I know precisely what charges have been made against me by Lieutenant De Lancey, sir?”

The stout little captain hesitated for a moment, riffling through the papers in front of him, a pensive frown creasing his brow. “Well,” he said, still frowning, “the most, ah, serious are made by Mrs. Lucas. She claims that you, ah, endeavored to force your attentions on her after Captain Lucas was taken ill and she was without his protection. In consequence, the lady states that she sought protection from Lieutenant De Lancey and, when he attempted to afford her his aid, that you had him placed in arrest.” His frown deepened as he turned the page and read on. “Ahem … this makes damning reading, Commander Broome, I must confess. Mrs. Lucas writes that you ordered her husband to be put ashore without his consent, and that when she remonstrated with you on that account, you had her put ashore forcibly. You—”

“It was not without his consent, sir,” Red protested. “And Captain Lucas requested specifically that his wife remain in Perth with him.”

“Do you deny her claim that you forced your attentions on her, Commander?”

“Categorically, sir. There is no truth in that whatsoever, I give you my word.”

“Hmm—well, I have noted your assurance. The lady is young, is she not?” Captain Skinner paused, looking up from the papers to meet Red’s indignant gaze. “Younger than Captain Lucas?”

“Yes, considerably younger, sir. But that does not mean that I—”

“Quite so, Commander Broome. Ah, there is one more charge, if I can find the requisite communication. I … yes, here it is. This is a letter in what I take to be Captain Lucas’s own handwriting, and it is addressed to the Secretary to Their Lordships of the Admiralty. I must presume that Captain Lucas intended to mail it but, owing to his illness, was unable to do so.” Skinner read slowly from the letter, and Red’s heart sank. He could make an accurate guess at its contents and realized that, of course, Lucas had

written it early in the Galah’s passage, when Red had first announced his intention of following the principle of great-circle sailing.

He listened, his apprehension increasing as Skinner read on. Lucas had brought up the chase after the slaver as well, and set down thus, in the pedantic style the engineer captain affected, his own actions and the decisions he had made sounded, to say the least, irresponsible. But surely Lucas had not meant to mail his letter; he had written it in the heat of the moment, and Dora must have stumbled on it and seen it as a useful weapon to use against him—probably when she was packing prior to being put ashore.

“Well, Commander?” Captain Skinner demanded. “What have you to say to that, may I ask?”

Red smothered an exasperated sigh. “Only that I was in command of the Galah, sir, and the decisions I took were proper for me to take. And I would remind you that Captain Lucas was an engineer officer, sir. He had never commanded a sailing ship at sea.”

“You have a point there,” the captain conceded. “Clearly, if I am compelled to order an inquiry, it will have to be postponed until Captain and Mrs. Lucas arrive in Sydney and can give evidence in person.” “And Lieutenant De Lancey, sir?” Red asked stiffly. “Ah, yes—De Lancey. The young man informed me that he desires to quit the service.” Skinner shrugged. “In the light of that and of the, ah, animosity he clearly bears you, I shall place him on half pay, pending confirmation from Their Lordships that his services may be dispensed with. Unless, of course, you wish to bring charges of your own against him, in, ah, rebuttal of his claims?”

“Sir, I …” For a moment, as outrage at Francis De Lancey’s conduct outweighed discretion, Red was tempted to agree to Captain Skinner’s offer. But, he asked himself soberly, what would it achieve? Were he to haul the boy before a naval court-martial, undoubtedly it would lead to a breach between his family and that of Judge De Lancey, who was one of his father’s oldest and most valued friends. And there was Magdalen. His courtship would dissolve in bitterness before he had even embarked on it if he became a party to the ruin of her young brother’s career and reputation. And the damned young fool was evidently quite determined to quit the navy; probably he had some crazy idea of taking ship back to Perth to rejoin Dora Lucas as soon as he was free. If he did anything of the kind, of course, his charges would no longer hold water, and—

“Well, Commander?” Captain Skinner prompted, with more than a hint of impatience.

“I do not wish to bring charges against Lieutenant De Lancey, sir,” Red said with emphasis, “for personal and family reasons. If you decide, sir, that an official inquiry is necessary and the parties concerned—including Captain Lucas and his wife—are called upon to give evidence in substantiation of the complaints they have seen fit to make of my conduct, I shall submit willingly. In the meantime, sir, perhaps you will be so good as to reserve judgment until you have made your inspection of my ship and her company.”

The stout post captain’s brows rose in momentary surprise, and then his expression relaxed, and he got to his feet.

“Very well, Commander Broome, I shall do as you ask. Tomorrow at noon, shall we say, for my inspection? And I take it that you can dispense with Lieutenant De Lancey’s services?”

“Yes, sir,” Red assured him. “With your permission, I should like to promote my senior midshipman—Master’s Mate Dixon—to the acting rank of lieutenant in his place.”

“You have my permission, Commander.” Captain Skinner stubbed out the stump of his cigar. Almost as an afterthought, he asked curiously, “Are you related to Captain Justin Broome, by any chance? The present commandant of the naval dockyard, I mean?”

“Yes, he is my father, sir. And Judge De Lancey is my uncle.” Red drew himself up and saluted, conscious that Skinner’s brows had risen once again. But the captain offered no comment, bowed in acknowledgment of the salute, and with a crisp “Until tomorrow, Commander Broome,” he resumed his seat, reaching for a fresh cigar.

Red set off briskly in the direction of the cove, where his ship lay at anchor, but after some thought, he made the brief detour that took him into Macquarie Street and thence to

the front door of the De Lancey residence, at the corner of Hunter Street. To the smartly liveried manservant who came in response to his summons, he gave his name and asked if Miss Magdalen De Lancey was free to receive him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man answered, with suspicious promptitude. “Miss Magdalen is not at home.”

The door was firmly closed before Red could ask for her father.

When he returned on board the Galah, it was to learn, from a puzzled and indignant Tim, that Francis De Lancey had not reported for duty.

“The miserable young rogue!” the first lieutenant exclaimed. “Do you think he has tried to run again, sir?”

“For good this time, Tim,” Red told him. “Captain Skinner is placing him on half pay, pending Their Lordships’ agreement. Andrew Dixon is to be given acting rank to fill the vacancy.” He gave no other explanation; time enough for that, he thought resignedly. If the Sydney squadron commander decided that an official inquiry into Francis De Lancey’s trumped-up charges was called for, then Tim could be counted on to bear witness to their complete lack of substance.

He gave his first lieutenant a rueful smile and, clapping a hand on his broad blue-clad shoulder, announced gravely, “Captain Skinner intends to subject us to an official inspection at noon tomorrow, Tim … which doesn’t give us much time, I’m afraid. So let’s make a start, shall we? Pass the word for all officers to assemble in my cabin right away, if you please.”

Tim swore under his breath and then, like the good first lieutenant he was, added trenchantly, “Aye, aye, sir. Don’t worry—we’ll be ready for him, if it takes both watches all night.”

Jasper Morgan lay in the concealment of a thick clump of brushwood and, his telescope to his eye, studied the activities of three men working a sluice on the riverbank below him.

The older of the three—a tall, good-looking man with iron-gray hair—he recognized, from the description he had been given, as the owner of the great sheep and cattle property known as Pengallon, through which the Macquarie River ran for more than two miles. Tempest was his name, and according to the fellow who had described him, he was a retired naval officer and one of the wealthiest landowners in the colony of New South Wales, whose flocks of purebred merino sheep now outnumbered those of the sons of the late John Macarthur, who had originally introduced the breed.

The other two men were working under Tempest’s orders, but neither looked like a paid hand, and from the casualness of their speech and their frequent laughter, Morgan decided that they must be related to him.

He scowled, trying to remember what his informant—a gold digger he had met some weeks ago in a Bathurst tavern —had told him about Tempest’s family.

There was a son, in his early twenties, and a daughter some years younger, and—Jasper Morgan’s frown lifted.

” ‘E’s got a nephew,” the digger had said. “An ‘uge great giant of a feller, what can’t ‘ear nor speak. Dickon they call ‘im. Got the strength o’ ten men, that there Dickon ‘as, so ‘e ain’t one ter mix it wiv, though they say as ‘e’s gentle enough. Part abo, some folk reckon—anyways, ‘e understands their lingo an’ goes off on walkabout wiv ‘em when ‘e feels so inclined. An’ Mrs. Tempest—why, she’s a real nice lady, from all accounts. American, from what I ‘card. Never

turns no one from ‘er door that’s in want o’ a meal or a bed for the night.”

As he might soon be, Morgan thought sourly, if the ill luck that had beset him since his arrival in Sydney nine months ago did not change for the better. He sighed in bitter exasperation and turned his glass on each of Tempest’s two companions in turn.