The Gold Seekers (34 page)

“That is where Luke went,” Mercy began. “The Turon. He—”

“Oh, yes, Luke—the young man who is not your brother.” Alice Cox’s gently mocking tone robbed her words of any malice, but her smile faded. “He is seeking not for gold, but for the man named Morgan, you said, did you not? The man who wronged you and who he believes was responsible for the death of his brother and others?”

“His brother Dan,” Mercy supplied. “And their partners, Tom and Frank Gardener. And it’s not just that Luke believes Jasper Morgan killed them, Mrs. Cox. It was proved, proved beyond doubt.” For Luke’s sake, and anxious to clear up any misunderstanding, she told of the trial before the miners’ committee at Thayer’s Bend. “I was there. I gave evidence. The committee brought a formal charge of murder against Jasper Morgan and ordered that he stand trial. Luke swore to find him and bring him to justice. He will not rest or even seek for gold on his own account until he does find him.”

“Can he not be dissuaded, child?”

Mercy shook her head. Nothing, she reflected ruefully— not even her wedding to Claus Van Buren—would turn Luke from his purpose. His brother Dan had meant everything to him—more than his parents, certainly more than herself— and his meeting with Tom Gardener’s widow, soon after the Dolphin had reached Sydney, had served to harden his resolve. Tom’s widow and his two fatherless children … That meeting had upset Luke greatly, she recalled. He had given them every penny he had and, in consequence, had left for the Turon possessed of nothing save his horse and the clothes he stood up in, pledged to work for the two young New Zealanders from the Rangihowa Mission in return for his keep.

“No,” she stated with conviction. “Luke won’t be dissuaded. Claus offered him employment—here in Sydney or at sea in one of his ships—but Luke refused. He will go on searching for Jasper Morgan until he finds him, Mrs. Cox. I’m sure he will, even if it takes him the rest of his life.”

“And if he does find him, Mercy?” Alice persisted. “Will he take the law into his own hands, do you suppose?”

“I don’t know,” Mercy confessed uneasily. Luke had only ever spoken of bringing Jasper Morgan to justice, she reminded herself. But clearly it would be difficult, if not plain impossible, for him to take Morgan back to Thayer’s Bend— or even to America itself—with his limited means and after so prolonged a lapse of time. Claus might help, but he was in no way bound to support Luke’s cause. “I suppose,” she added, feeling that an answer was required of her, “it will depend on whether or not the authorities here are willing to

act on Luke’s testimony and mine. They might not be willing. It would be Jasper Morgan’s word against ours, would it not? And since he claims to be a British officer—” She broke off, suddenly afraid to give voice to her thoughts.

“A life for a life, ” Luke had once quoted. “An eye for an eye, tooth for tooth … wound for wound, that is what the Holy Bible teaches. Morgan put his life in jeopardy when he killed Dan and the Gardeners, and he must pay with his life.” Mercy shivered, avoiding Alice Cox’s anxiously searching gaze. She did know, she thought; she knew with harsh, cold certainty that if the Australian authorities refused to take action against the self-styled Captain Morgan, then Luke would take the law into his own hands, regardless of the consequences to him or anyone else. But she could not tell Alice Cox, who was the wife of a member of the clergy— Claus’s most revered “man of God.” In that respect, Luke had a right to her silence.

“I don’t know, Mrs. Cox,” she repeated, continuing to avert her gaze. Alice Cox did not press the point. Old Saleh was on board the Dolphin, but another servant brought them coffee, and as if by mutual agreement, the subject was changed.

“We caught a glimpse of Claus’s fine new vessel on our way here,” Alice said. “I know little of ships, but Nathan was quite excited when he saw her. You will be going to sea in her again after your wedding, I believe?”

“Yes,” Mercy confirmed. “Claus is sending two of his ships to Port Phillip with mining supplies, but we are going to New Zealand on board the Dolphin, his new ship. She is a truly beautiful ship, and I am overjoyed to be going back to Wellington and the Bay of Islands. I had hardly any time ashore on the voyage out here. New Zealand is a wonderful country, everyone says, and I should like to see more of it. And of the Maoris. They—” She lapsed into embarrassed silence, realizing that Alice Cox’s expression was inexplicably unhappy.

“Forgive me,” the older woman begged, “but we lost a very dear and good friend in the recent war against the Maoris, and I tend to think of them, somewhat uncharitably perhaps, as cruel and vengeful savages. Oh, I know that there have been faults on both sides and that some of the settlers who have gone out there have tricked the native inhabitants out of their land. But Michael Dean was not a man of that stamp. He was a soldier, it is true, yet all his endeavors were directed to keeping the peace and ensuring that the Maoris were treated justly. In spite of that, they ambushed and killed him when he was on his way to negotiate with one of the chiefs who had sued for peace. I heard the story only at second hand, so I know few details, but I knew Captain Dean very well.” Alice Cox smiled, blinking back the tears that had welled into her eyes. “He left his mark on this colony. He was largely responsible for the closure of one of the worst penal settlements here, at Moreton Bay, and, as I did, he initially drew public attention to its evils in the columns of the Australian. And he explored and surveyed much of the country beyond Bathurst in the early days, and later joined the expeditions led by Captain Sturt and Mr. Hume. And yet”—her smile widened—“it was rumored, after his death, that Michael Dean was once a highwayman! Frankly, I do not believe that he could have been, but if he was, I can only say that he redeemed himself out here a hundred times over.”

Mercy stared at her in puzzlement but did not offer any comment, and Alice Cox put down her coffee cup and rose.

“I think,” she said, “if you will excuse me, Mercy, I will go to bed now. And you should have an early night, too, for tomorrow will be your great day—yours and Claus’s. You must not skimp on your beauty sleep, child.”

“No,” Mercy conceded dutifully. “No, indeed.”

She accompanied the older woman to her room, bearing their two candles, but after bidding her good night, she found herself unable to settle down to sleep. A shower of pebbles striking the windowpane sent her rushing across the room from her bed, and the shadowy form she glimpsed, standing below her window, resolved itself into Luke’s travel-stained person, waving to her to let him in.

Joyfully, Mercy hastened to answer the summons, and Luke hugged her.

“Am I in time for your wedding?” he asked.

“You are just in time.” Mercy could not quite keep the

reproachful note from sounding in her voice. “It is tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I came as soon as I knew. Captain Broome and his son told me that you and Claus had fixed a day. But I wasn’t sure—you see, I … Oh, it’s a long story, Mercy. I’ve been chasing shadows all along the Turon.”

Mercy took his arm. “You must be tired and hungry, Luke.” One of Claus’s Javanese servants came in response to her call, and she sent him scurrying to the kitchen, then escorted Luke through the double glass doors into the parlor. “There is a room prepared for you. By the time you have washed, Abdul will have your meal ready and—” A second houseboy appeared, holding a candle and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Go with Kassim. He will bring you anything you need.”

“You are already mistress of this great household!” Luke exclaimed admiringly. “What a change from the old Nancy Bray and Jemmy Kemp’s beef stew and taters! You play your role well, little sister.”

“Our deception is finished,” Mercy warned. “I could not wed Claus with so much on my conscience—I could not, Luke! He has given me everything—his love, his trust. I—”

“You told him that I’m not your brother?”

“Yes, I did. I—I had to.”

Luke’s dark eyes narrowed. “And about Morgan? Did you tell him about Morgan?”

Mercy met his alarmed gaze with a reassuring smile. “Yes, I told him everything.”

“And clearly he did not send you packing,” Luke observed. His momentary dismay faded, and he echoed her smile. “I’ll clean myself up, and then we can talk. I’m glad I’m in time to see you wed, Mercy. So very glad.”

“So am I,” Mercy told him. “I hoped so much that you would be. Because it’s the end of—of our chase, isn’t it, Luke? It is for me. You said you had been chasing shadows along the Turon, and that—that must mean that you didn’t find him, you didn’t find Jasper Morgan?”

Luke’s expression hardened. “No,” he admitted, tightlipped. “But I found his trail, with another killing to mark it. Morgan has gone to the new goldfields in Victoria. He sailed from here in the Banshee, calling himself Lewis, before we made port here.”

“Then—” Mercy held her breath, her heart thudding. “Then you—”

“I’m going after him,” Luke said with harsh finality. “Just as soon as I’ve seen you wed. I’ve a debt to pay—it’s a debt of honor now, and if it kills me, I’ll settle the score.” The harshness faded from his voice, and he quoted softly, “Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, wound for wound. A life for four lives it’s become, Mercy. And I’m not about to give up.”

He turned his back on her, permitting Mercy no chance to plead with him, and Kassim hastened after him, the flickering flame of the candle he bore almost extinguished as the parlor door slammed shut behind them.

Her Majesty’s ship Huntsman, of twenty guns, signaled her arrival off the Port Jackson Heads on the morning of October 10. Red Broome, who had spent the previous two days as a guest on board the Acheron steam survey vessel, on guard ship duty in Watson’s Bay, watched her bring to to receive the pilot. As she sailed past the anchorage, he listened to the speculation concerning her expressed by the Acheron’s officers.

His own ship, the Galah, had, to his intense chagrin, been dispatched to Hobart under the temporary command of Commodore Skinner’s nephew, and he himself was still officially unemployed, waiting—with ever-increasing impatience—for the long-delayed summons to appear before a court of inquiry. Skinner had continued to postpone the convening of the court until the missing Dora Lucas could be traced.

“Her evidence is essential, whether it is given in person or in writing,” the commodore had informed him, brushing aside Red’s objections and, indeed, permitting him little chance to voice them. “In view of Captain Lucas’s unhappy demise, the court must afford his widow a hearing. Even you, Commander Broome, must see the justice of my decision.”

He had attempted to do so, Red reflected resentfully, but with conspicuous lack of success. Now all he could hope for was that his father and Johnny would manage to track down young De Lancey and his paramour and, at the least, obtain a statement from them that would satisfy both Skinner and his court.

“Perhaps she’s bringing Skinner’s relief,” Red heard the Acheron’s commander, John Stokes, suggest. His tone was guarded, but from the expression on his thin, austere face, it

was evident that he hoped his guess might prove correct. “The Huntsman—any of you know who’s commanding her?” Heads were shaken regretfully. The Acheron had been on the East Indies station for four years, engaged in survey duties in New Zealand waters, and she was due to return to England to pay off. Overdue, in fact, Red remembered, according to John Stokes, but Commodore Skinner had detained her, giving the purported threat of attack by a Russian fleet as his reason for delay. The commodore had attained post rank in 1838, Stokes eight years later, and Skinner had, as usual, pulled rank, effectively putting an end to argument

and pleas alike. “Perhaps she’s our relief, sir,” the first lieutenant, Adam

Elliott, offered.

“The commodore still would not permit this ship to leave,” Stokes countered glumly. “He remains convinced that a steamer is an essential part of the defense of Port Jackson.” He expelled his breath in an exasperated sigh. “Here we are, permanently at anchor, with all our scientific instruments and our highly trained ship’s company deteriorating from lack of use. Not to mention,” he added, with a wry gesture toward the master, Frederick Evans, “one of the Royal Navy’s most experienced surveyors, recently honored by the fellowship of the Royal Geographical Society and that of the Royal Astronomical Society! Honor and glory will deservedly be his, if only we can arrange his passage back to England … is that not so, Mr. Evans, sir?”

The slight, ruddy-cheeked master waved a deprecatory hand. Under the command of Captain Francis Blackwood in H.M.S. Fly, he had, Red knew, charted the Great Barrier Reef, on Australia’s eastern coast, and been responsible for the erection of the great stone beacon that, seventy miles offshore, marked the eastern extremity of the reef. Evans’s Edifice, as it was termed, had saved countless vessels from shipwreck on the treacherous coral fangs of the reef.

“I’m in no hurry to leave here, Captain Stokes,” he answered gravely. “After all, sir, 1 can work on my charts undisturbed and at leisure, and I have been made free of the observatory. This anchorage is perhaps a trifle inconvenient, but apart from that I’ve no complaint, none at all.”

Stokes groaned in mock despair. “You see what he’s like, Broome—honor and glory are of no concern to him. Whilst the rest of us chafe at our unaccustomed idleness, Mr. Evans calls it leisure! And you, I am sure, have still more reason for complaint, with the commodore’s precious nephew—who has never previously held or merited a command—now vanished with your Galah into the deep blue yonder. But I have an idea. We are tied here, all shore leave denied us, but you are not. You are attending a wedding in Sydney Town this afternoon, you said?”

Red nodded. “Yes, sir, I am. At the Church of St. James, I—” He hesitated, anxious lest Stokes might seek to disrupt his plans. Magdalen had consented to his being her escort to the church, and nothing would induce him to forgo that privilege. Of late she had become more responsive to his courtship, and— He added quickly, “It is the wedding of a boyhood friend of mine, Claus Van Buren, and I’ve promised I’ll attend.”