The Gold Seekers (27 page)

“Fallen for Dora Lucas’s doubtful charms?” Red finished for her. “You’ve made her acquaintance evidently, so I trust you’ll believe me when I tell you that I did not. I have more sense than that, Jenny, I assure you.”

“But there is—there was some reason for Captain Lucas’s accusations, surely? Did anyone else—”

“Yes,” Red conceded. “Regrettably someone else did fall for the lady. Someone with less sense than I.”

The maid entered with their second course, and Jenny waited until, having served them, the girl withdrew. Then she said thoughtfully, “I think I’m beginning to understand. Was it Francis De Lancey? Did he fall for—how did you put it? Dora Lucas’s doubtful charms, and then lie about it in the hope of involving you? Because if he did, that would explain why Magdalen has been so cold and unfriendly of late—to all of us. And— Oh, Red, she cut you at the Governor’s dinner party, just before you sailed, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did.” Red could feel the awkward color rising to his cheeks. He pushed his plate away and reached across the table to capture his sister’s hand. “Let’s say you’re pretty near the mark, Jenny. But—”

“I fancy I hit the mark, Red,” Jenny amended.

“AH right, little sister,” Red conceded, releasing her hand. “Provided this conversation is strictly between us, I’ll tell you the rest. The young idiot Francis was ready to quit the service on Dora Lucas’s account, and I stupidly tried to save him from the consequences of his folly, for his family’s sake.”

“Or Magdalen’s?” Jenny suggested gently.

“Well, perhaps. But I was Francis’s commander. I felt I owed it to all of them. I put him under arrest, to stop him from running—that is, from deserting the ship in Perth—in order to stay with Dora. He would have wrecked his career if he’d deserted, and there would have been hell to pay with Captain Lucas, of course.”

“And he has repaid you by lying to Magdalen and his parents?” Jenny’s eyes were bright with indignation, as they had been when she had spoken of her father’s predicament a little while before. “Oh, Red, I’m so sorry! But I’m glad you told me, because it explains why Magdalen has been so strange lately. And Uncle George and dear Aunt Rachel, too.” She rose and led the way into the drawing room, where coffee had been set out for them. “I was at a loss to understand why they should have behaved so, even to Dad. And so was he. I think you ought to tell him, Red.” She poured the coffee and carried his cup over to him. “It will have to come out at the court of inquiry, will it not?”

Red put down his cup and strode across to the wide window overlooking Elizabeth Bay, seeking to collect his thoughts. “Possibly,” he said at last. “Depending on what I decide to tell the court.”

Jenny regarded him in some dismay. “But surely you will tell them the truth? Francis De Lancey has left the navy, has he not? You cannot risk your career for the sake of that ungrateful little rogue. Red, you must not! Not even for Magdalen’s sake, however much you care for her.”

Red was again silent. How much, he asked himself, did he care for his cousin Magdalen? Enough, he knew, to want to see her again, to break through the barrier this unhappy affair had placed between them, and to continue his interrupted courtship. And … yes, enough to want her for his wife, if only she would finally consent to wed him.

Staring out across the sun-bright water of the small landlocked bay below him, Red saw Magdalen’s lovely, serene face in memory and remembered the warmth of her smile, and how her blue eyes had sparkled when she laughed. They both had laughed often during the all too brief time they had spent together in the glory of an English June, kindly and unobtrusively chaperoned by Magdalen’s stout, good-natured aunt. Those had been happy days, the happiest he had ever spent since his boyhood, but … Reluctantly he dragged his mind back to the present and the problems that the court of inquiry would pose, not only for himself.

“Jenny,” he said awkwardly, “there are others involved, you know. If it were only Francis, I’d let him take the consequences and be damned to him. But it’s not. I hold no brief for Captain Lucas, I assure you—in fact, I heartily dislike him, the more so after what you say he’s doing to Dad. But if I tell the whole truth, it will wreck his marriage, and he’s an

old man, a pretty frail one, too. And it would do immeasurable harm to the De Lanceys.”

“Yes, but what about yourself? What will it do to your career, if the inquiry finds against you?” Jenny countered.

Red smiled at her. “I can clear myself of any improper association with Dora Lucas. I have a host of witnesses I can call, virtually my whole ship’s company. And that will suffice, I believe. Once offered proof that I didn’t cuckold him, he’ll be satisfied, and so will the court, I venture to hope. There’s no need to make Francis’s infatuation public, and given time, the young fool will probably get over it.” He crossed to Jenny’s side and put an affectionate arm about her slim shoulders. “Dora has made her bed, now she must lie on it— and I rather fancy she will, when this is over. Lucas may be no great shakes as a husband, but he ranks as a post captain, conferring a certain social prestige, besides a fine official residence and no financial worries. I don’t imagine she’ll throw all that away, when she’s had time to think about it. Besides, what can Francis De Lancey offer her? He’s thrown up his naval career—he has no job and no money. And Dora’s not entirely a fool.”

“I pray you are right, Red,” Jenny told him, her voice lacking conviction. “But let’s talk of something more pleasant, shall we? Tell me about your visit to Norfolk Island. It’s not as terrible a place as it used to be, is it? I know that the government recalled that good Captain Maconochie because he was considered too lenient and because he gave so many of the convicts their freedom, if he believed they merited it. What is the present commandant like? Is he a reformer?”

“If the lash reforms, then yes, I suppose he is.” Red helped himself to a second cup of coffee. “I don’t know if the subject of Norfolk Island is any pleasanter, Jenny. It is still a hell on earth for the poor, unhappy devils sent there to serve their sentences. True, there are women and children on the island now, but they are the families of the commandant and his staff; convicts’ wives are forbidden. And the commandant, John Price, is … well, in my view he’s a sadist. A gentleman with impeccable manners and cultured tastes, who treats the wretched prisoners with a refined cruelty that horrified me.”

He and his officers had been most hospitably entertained, Red recalled; indeed, the Prices had spared no effort to make them welcome, even, on one occasion, giving a garden party for them in the beautifully landscaped grounds of their official residence. John Price was a civilian—the first ever appointed as commandant of the penal settlement. He was a tall, handsome man, who affected a monocle, and his wife, Mary, was a niece of Sir John Franklin, the late Governor of Van Diemen’s Land.

Red’s brows met in a frown. At first he had been taken in; the penal establishment ran on oiled wheels, its every need supplied by convict labor, and the convicts were docile and well behaved, carrying out their menial tasks with no hint of rebelliousness or even, it seemed, of resentment. But then he had attended a church service, at which all but a handful of convict worshipers had shuffled in, wearing leg fetters, their faces blank masks of suffering and their voices never raised above a whisper, even when hymns were sung by the rest of the congregation.

Later, concerned by what he had seen, he had talked to the chaplain, the Reverend Adam Rogers, and had learned of sickening punishments, floggings, confinements in cells too small to permit the occupants to stand upright, and men spread-eagled in the sun until they screamed for mercy—all this, and more, for the most trivial of offenses.

“Mr. Price was sent here to restore order after the convicts mutinied under the previous commandant, Major Childs,” Rogers had told him. “He has done that—there is order here, without a doubt, for the poor unfortunates are too cowed and frightened to rebel. But he has done it with greater brutality than his predecessor ever indulged in, and he is hated more bitterly than even Major Childs was, believe me.”

And he had added bleakly, “I am soon to be dismissed from my post, Captain Broome, because I wrote to my archdeacon in Hobart and revealed the truth about this terrible place. Mr. Price refuted all my accusations, and Sir William Denison, alas, has chosen to believe him rather than me. I

am, according to Mr. Price, ‘too easily disturbed and lacking in discretion.’ But judge for yourself, Captain. You have seen the faces of cruelly tortured men in my church this morning.”

And indeed he had, Red thought, feeling again the sick pity he had felt during the parody of a service of worship, attended by close to three hundred lost souls, afraid to raise their voices to sing their Maker’s praise.

He had accepted no more invitations to garden parties at Orange Vale and had made excuses when Price had suggested a shooting party, to be followed by a picnic on the opposite side of the island. But—

Jenny said, watching his face, “Did you suppose that this country had completely rid itself of its convict heritage, Red? Simply because we no longer accept convict transports here, that does not mean that the—the criminal element has vanished. Those who are sent to Norfolk Island now are classed as incorrigibles. They are guilty of very serious crimes— murder, and robbery with violence, most of them, and persistent lawbreaking.”

“They are still human beings,” Red demurred. “But Price treats them like animals.”

“Well,” Jenny told him, “according to reports in our newspapers, there is a possibility that Norfolk Island will be closed as a penal settlement before very long. It is administered by Van Diemen’s Land, as you know, not by New South Wales, and the Governor, Sir William Denison, is said to favor the resettlement there of the Pitcairn islanders.”

“Good Lord!” Red exclaimed. “Do you mean the Bounty mutineers?”

“Their descendants. Apparently there are quite a number of them still living on Pitcairn Island, which is barren and inhospitable. It is a romantic idea really, I suppose, but it seems they are good, deserving folk, worthy of a better home than the one they have.”

“Admiral Bligh will turn in his grave!” Red exclaimed. “But I, for one, would be happy to see an end to Commandant Price’s hell on earth. Norfolk’s a beautiful island, Jenny —truly beautiful, with fertile soil and a mild climate. It deserves better than to be used for—what did you say they were—incorrigibles, condemned to a living death. Captain Cook, you know, described it as an earthly paradise, and I daresay that is what it could have been, if our government had used it for normal settlement. We—” He broke off, hearing the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel drive outside the house. “Callers, Jenny?”

“No.” Jenny jumped up, beaming. “Dad is back. He drives to the dockyard these days, behind a pretty pair of trotters he bought from Mr. Edward Hargraves. Hargraves wasted no time investing in a brougham, you see, as soon as the governor appointed him commissioner for Crown lands.” Her smile faded, and she eyed her brother gravely. “Red, you will tell him about Francis De Lancey, won’t you? He has a right to know.”

“I’ll tell him,” Red assured her. “If he asks me, Jenny.” But their father was not alone when he came into the room. His arm was about the shoulders of a slim, dark-faced man, elegantly dressed in a blue cutaway coat, with Hessian boots and well-cut white breeches. Red stared at him for a moment without recognition. Then the stranger wrung his hand, and Justin Broome said, smiling, “My son Red, commanding Her Majesty’s ship Galah. Red, this is an old friend from your boyhood, Claus Van Buren, master and owner of the clipper schooner Dolphin. No doubt you noticed her when you came in this morning.”

“That I did,” Red responded. “With my eyes popping out of my head!” He gripped the new arrival’s hand warmly. “It’s been a long time, Claus, a very long time since my brother Johnny and I hid you in a sail locker to prevent them shipping you off to—Timor, wasn’t it?”

“It was Timor,” Claus confirmed. “And thanks be to God that you came to my rescue!” He studied Red with bright, inquiring eyes, bearded lips curved in an oddly boyish grin. “You were a young mid then, wearing your first white patch and dirk. Then you sailed with Captain Stirling in Her Majesty’s ship Success, and we saw you no more. I’m delighted to see you back, Commander!” He bowed and turned to greet Jenny. “I have issued an invitation to you all to dine on board my Dolphin tomorrow evening, which your father has accepted on your behalf.” He glanced from one to

the other inquiringly and, receiving their nods of assent, added proudly, “I shall have the pleasure of displaying my clipper to you and also of introducing you to my bride-to-be, whom I have brought with me from America.”

He received their congratulations with smiling diffidence and then took his leave, refusing Jenny’s offer of refreshment.

“I understand that there was an unfortunate occurrence at the naval dockyard this morning,” he said, exchanging glances with Justin Broome. “That is how we came to meet … although, of course, I’d intended to call on you, Miss Jenny. No doubt Captain Broome will tell you about it when I have gone.”

Red ushered him out. He returned to the drawing room to find his father seated in his accustomed armchair, a glass in his hand, and all trace of the pleasure he had displayed in Claus Van Buren’s presence wiped from his face.

“What happened at the dockyard, sir?” Red asked with concern. Meeting Jenny’s warning glance, he hesitated, recalling what she had told him of their father’s troubled relationship with his successor. “Has Captain Lucas—that is, was he—”

His father eyed him somberly. “Captain Lucas collapsed, Red—a heart attack, I imagine, although we shall not know for certain until the doctors have examined him. He came into my office, after lunching at his own house, and started raging at me. I’ve no idea what about, because he was inarticulate with fury. I could scarcely understand a word he said. But—” He shrugged ruefully. “As Jenny may have told you, we have not been on the best of terms, virtually since his arrival. He has seen fit to accuse me of maladministration, to which—since he could offer no proof—I took exception. But he is so obviously a sick man that I—well, I tried not to make an issue of it.”