The Silent Frontier (26 page)

‘We have an assignment to travel to Cooktown, where we will meet with a rich Englishman by the name of Sir Percival
Sparkes,’ Lachlan said. ‘We will then escort him to Black Mountain, just south of Cooktown.’

‘He looking for gold?’ Matthew asked.

‘No, he just wants to go and see the hill,’ Lachlan replied.

Bemused, Matthew shook his head. ‘He must be mad to just go and look at a hill without scratching for gold.’

‘Yeah,’ Lachlan echoed. ‘Mad and rich.’

No matter what the Englishman was, Lachlan knew that he was taking the assignment only for the chance to see what sort of man Amanda had married. But it would be good to share with Matthew this country that he had come to love, despite its many dangers. He would always be a man of the frontier, regardless of his personal wealth. Although maybe one day he would discover that piece of the colony where he would be prepared to settle.

TWENTY-FOUR

M
r Lee had employed Phoebe to teach his wife and children English as well as educate the children in the basics of a European-style education. It had not been easy at first, but the two Lee boys seemed to master what they were taught and were learning English at a good rate. The family had proved to be generous and warm-hearted towards Phoebe and her children and the little space that had been allocated for them at the back of Lee’s store was clean and comfortable.

However Phoebe soon came to learn why Ken Hamilton had been somewhat reluctant to place her in the company of the Chinese family. Her first lesson came when Phoebe volunteered to take Kwong Lee’s children for a stroll down Charlotte Street after a couple of weeks staying with the Chinese family.

When Phoebe exited the Chinese quarter, it was returning
to the country that she once knew. Rough and rowdy miners mixed with bullock drivers on the streets while by the Endeavour River those who had experienced the horrors of the Palmer goldfields jostled each other to obtain a berth on one of the ships preparing to return south. Such was the desperation of some, they would even resort to leaping into the crocodile-infested water to swim to the ships.

The four children watched wide-eyed. Phoebe’s children clung to her hands as they walked along the jostling street.

‘A Chinee lover,’ a male voice suddenly sneered from behind Phoebe. She gripped her children’s hands more tightly and glanced anxiously at the two Chinese boys walking beside her.

‘Hey, Missus,’ the voice said loudly, ‘why don’t you stop and buy a real human a drink?’

He was close enough now for Phoebe to smell the alcohol on his breath. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder, spinning her around. The man stank and his rheumy eyes spelled many days and nights in the town’s bars. From his tattered clothes, Phoebe could see that he was a man down on his luck.

‘These bloody Chinamen are doing honest miners out of their bread and butter,’ the man said angrily, pointing at the two small boys with Phoebe.

‘I hardly think so,’ Phoebe replied coldly. ‘Please take your hand off me,’ she added, attempting not to be intimidated, although she was feeling real fear for the safety of herself and the children.

‘What are you goin’ to do about it?’ the man hissed into her face.

When Phoebe looked over the assailant’s shoulder she suddenly felt a surge of hope. Striding along the street towards her was Ken Hamilton with a fierce look on his face.

‘Let the lady go,’ he roared when he was about ten paces away.

The man released Phoebe, swinging around with a long-bladed knife in his hand. ‘Want yer guts sliced out?’ he snarled at Hamilton.

Ken Hamilton reached under his shirt and produced a small pistol from behind his waistband. ‘Want your head blown off?’

The man lowered his knife to slink away into the crowds around them. It had all happened so fast that very few on the street had been aware of the confrontation. Ken Hamilton quickly slipped the revolver back into his waistband.

‘Are you all okay?’ he asked. His sudden appearance brought expressions of delight to young Nellie and Hugh’s faces.

‘Mr Hamilton,’ Phoebe said, ‘you must be our guardian angel.’

Hamilton looked sheepish. ‘I was just lucky enough to find you,’ he said. ‘I went to see Lee and he said that you had planned to take the kids for a look at the town. So I came looking for you. I wanted to inquire how the last couple of weeks have gone.’

‘I must thank you once again,’ Phoebe said gratefully. ‘The Lees are such a fine family. They have been wonderful, although I must admit it does feel strange to be amongst their people.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Hamilton drawled, ‘I got to admit that I felt a bit strange living in their world when I first met Lee. But he is a Christian man – as you most probably know by now. He got his education and what English he had from Methodist missionaries in China. Now he wants to establish a trading company in this part of the world. He believes that
China and Australia have a lot to share in the years ahead. Sadly, I do not think he will ever see his dream come true. Too many people despise the Chinese because they are different from us.’

‘You do not appear to be one of those people, Mr Hamilton,’ Phoebe said.

‘Like I said,’ Ken Hamilton replied, ‘I had the chance to live in China many years ago and found the people not much different from us. They love their families, want to work and live in peace. That’s about what all of us want.’

‘You sound like you should have been a missionary, Mr Hamilton,’ Phoebe said with a faint smile.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Ken Hamilton said quickly, ‘I don’t go for that religion stuff. I kind of put my faith in a strong back and good rifle living up these ways. But I do like the Chinese for their ways – God knows why.’

‘Would you like to walk with us?’ Phoebe gently asked.

‘I would be honoured,’ Hamilton replied, suddenly aware that little Nellie had taken his hand.

‘Will you marry me when I grow up?’ she asked seriously, looking up at him with her big eyes.

Hamilton suppressed his laughter and glanced at Phoebe. ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘I will have to ask your mother first.’

‘Good,’ the little girl said happily and continued to cling to his hand.

‘You seem to have a gentle way with children,’ Phoebe remarked. ‘How is it that you do not have a wife and family of your own?’

‘My life at sea did not allow me much time for such considerations,’ Ken replied. ‘I chose to come ashore to seek gold and was lucky,’ he continued. ‘I guess that I gave up the sea to seek a steadier life. Now that I have made my money, it is a case of going south to start a boat-building
yard – maybe around Moreton Bay. I like the weather in the colony.’

‘I think that you would be a wonderful husband for some fortunate woman,’ Phoebe sighed. ‘You are a rare gentleman.’

‘Would you be interested, Mrs Meers?’ Ken quietly asked.

‘Oh, I did not mean to insinuate that I was asking,’ Phoebe quickly said, her face reddening. ‘I suppose I was saying that you are a man who . . . ’

Suddenly Phoebe was lost for words, realising that she was revealing more of her feelings than she dared. Still mourning the loss of her husband, she felt such thoughts were improper. But when she looked up into Hamilton’s face she noticed his strong features and the wisdom in his eyes. He appeared at least fifteen years older than herself – a man in the prime of his life – and one who had seen so much of the world. She appreciated how in his quiet way he had helped her and the children after George’s death. Yes, she thought, Ken Hamilton was a desirable man in many ways.

‘What I meant to say, Mr Hamilton,’ Phoebe said, ‘is that I would like you to be around to see the children. They have taken a liking to you.’

‘And you?’ Ken asked, a twinkle in his eye.

‘I suppose that I have missed your company,’ Phoebe admitted.

‘In which case I should visit my old friend Lee a bit more often.’

Weeks later, the telegram to Townsville gave Lachlan the name of the coastal steamer that his brother would be travelling on. He waited at the wharf as the passengers were rowed ashore with their luggage.

‘Top hats are not very practical up here,’ Lachlan said, stepping back to appraise his brother. ‘We will have to get you kitted out for the journey ahead.’

John was also appraising his brother, dressed in knee-length riding boots, trousers and a loose-fitting cotton shirt. He was surprised to see how the climate seemed to have agreed with Lachlan. He looked fit and well. His weakened left arm seemed to have recovered from the terrible injury and Lachlan’s clean-shaven face was tanned to a golden colour. His long hair, tied back, was dark and lustrous. Wearing his dark suit, John suddenly felt out of place. The other Queenslanders greeting passengers from down south were similarly dressed to Lachlan. It seemed that civilised customs stopped north of Moreton Bay. Moreover, some of the local men were wearing guns in their belts.

‘It is wonderful seeing you, Lachie,’ John said, using his pet name for his little brother. ‘You look so well.’

‘I have spent a few restless nights waiting for your arrival,’ Lachlan replied, guiding his brother to a pile of suitcases off-loaded onto the shore from a separate rowboat. ‘All we have to do is clear you with our customs people and then we can go back to the hotel. I have booked your accommodation.’

After paying the excise duty for some goods in John’s possession, the two men walked to a light wagon Lachlan had hired from the stables. Matthew sat in the driver’s seat and his fearsome appearance startled John. Lachlan grinned when he saw the expression on his brother’s face. ‘This is Matthew Te Paea,’ he said, ‘the man who gave me my wounded arm in New Zealand, but you will observe that he has a slight limp, which I gave him.’

John did not know what to say, but reached up to the grinning Maori and shook his huge hand.

‘Welcome, brother,’ Matthew said.

‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Te Paea,’ John responded, casting his brother an inquiring look.

‘Well, time to get back to the verandah for afternoon drinks,’ Lachlan said, hauling himself into the back of the wagon while John took a seat beside Matthew.

Sitting beside his brother on the hotel’s verandah, John found a strange peace. He had no desire to live in the tropics himself but could understand why Lachlan found the hot climate of Australia’s north so appealing. Here, life seemed to lose its frenetic pace. Compared to the busy world of commerce down south in Sydney, everything here seemed to move so slowly – even the lazy drawl of conversation around him.

‘I noticed that a lot of the men around here are carrying guns,’ John remarked, watching the sun sinking in a mauve mist on the western horizon.

‘The ones going back into the bush do,’ Lachlan said. ‘A necessity – if you don’t want to be skewered on a wild blackfella’s spear. This isn’t like New South Wales or Victoria. It gets more dangerous the further north you go,’ Lachlan continued. ‘Around the Palmer, the Merkin have claimed many a miner’s life. I would suggest that you get a good rifle before we leave for Cooktown. Maybe one of those new Yankee repeating rifles, or at the least a Snider. I will also give you the name of a man who will guide you to the Palmer. He is an experienced bushman I would trust with my life. I only wish that I had not taken the assignment to escort this Sir Percival Sparkes. I should be with you.’

‘I will take your advice,’ he said, sipping his gin and tonic. ‘And I thank you for your concern for my welfare. But I will be all right. We MacDonalds are made of stern stuff.’

The two brothers spoke well into the evening, mostly catching up on the news of the company’s growing fortunes, but also speaking softly of their hopes for finding their sister. At length the subject of Lightfoot came up.

‘Nicholas feels that he will find a way of ruining him,’ John said. ‘If anyone can, it will be Nicky. I have not met the man, as Nicholas feels to do so might jeopardise his plans for him.’

‘Nicholas is wise,’ Lachlan said. ‘I think if I saw Lightfoot now, I would up and shoot him. The slimy bastard almost had me shot.’

‘I know that you were rather fond of his sister,’ John said quietly. ‘Does it not bother you that you are escorting her husband?’

‘I do not think about Amanda anymore,’ Lachlan said, not wanting to reveal that since he had learned the news of her arrival in Australia he had not been able to get her out of his mind. ‘I would rather not talk about the matter,’ he added quickly.

‘I have to admit,’ John said sympathetically, ‘that I have not had to confront such a situation with the fairer sex.’

‘Would you possibly feel the way I do if Nicholas were to leave you?’ Lachlan asked.

John fell silent for a short time, gathering his thoughts. The subject of his relationship with Nicholas had never come up before, although he suspected that Lachlan must have some inkling of its true nature.

‘Do you condemn me for who I am?’ John asked.

Lachlan turned to gaze at the last remnants of the sun sinking below the horizon. ‘I do not agree – or even understand, for that matter,’ he replied. ‘But you are my brother and have more than enough demonstrated how much you care for me – and for Phoebe. I do not know of any other man who would have done what you have to find us. No
matter what you have chosen to be in life, you are my brother and I love you for that.’

John was touched by his brother’s acceptance but glad even so that it was dark on the verandah. He did not want Lachlan to see the tears that were streaming down his face.

TWENTY-FIVE

L
achlan, Matthew and John travelled north on horseback, trailing a string of pack-horses carrying their supplies. Not only did the journey give Lachlan the opportunity to teach his brother the ways of the bush, it was also a time that drew the two brothers even closer. Fording streams, hacking through dense rainforest and being ever alert to hostile tribesmen, they shared hardship as well as the serenity that came at the end of the day around a camp fire.

Matthew was in his element, although his fear of the snakes that inhabited the north was a constant source of amusement for Lachlan. Having hailed from a country where such reptiles were unknown, Matthew couldn’t help but be fearful. He had heard all the tales told by the old hands of how the fearsome creatures could strike without being seen and bring a slow, agonising death to the unwary.

Lachlan placed a snake’s carcass in Matthew’s bedroll one
evening, but the jest did not elicit any laughter from the Maori when he found it. But it brought gales of merriment from Lachlan and John, who rolled around on the ground, laughing at the spectacle of the big Maori leaping in the air and screaming like a girl.

‘So where is the warrior I once knew?’ Lachlan asked, wiping away the tears streaming down his face. ‘You can easily see that it is dead.’

Matthew stomped away, growling Maori curses and sat down, his arms folded across his great chest. ‘One day I will get you, brother,’ he muttered. ‘One day.’

Their trek north took them past the small outposts of Port Denison and Smithfield, where they stopped to resupply their stores. Eventually, their journey brought them just south of Cooktown and within sight of Black Mountain.

‘So that is what Sir Percival wants to see,’ John mused from astride his horse, gazing at the giant black landform rising above the scrub to form a low hill. ‘Just looks like some giant has piled up a store of stones to build something and forgotten what it was.’

‘Not the time to go exploring the hill now,’ Lachlan said, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. ‘We have to keep moving if we are to meet the boat bringing Sir Percival to Cooktown.’ With that, Lachlan spurred his horse forward through the scrub.

‘This place has got a bad feeling,’ Matthew muttered. ‘We have places like this at home where you don’t go.’

‘Bloody heathen rubbish,’ Lachlan threw back across his shoulder. ‘It’s just a strange-looking pile of rocks – nothing more. Maybe Sir Percival will tell us how the hill was formed.’

‘The devil made it,’ Matthew replied softly. ‘That is a
place of dead people who come out at night to snatch you away.’

Lachlan shook his head. He had spent long enough in the bush to know that the dangers to him were tangible – not spiritual. But that night, having fallen into a deep sleep beside the camp fire, Lachlan had a strange dream. In his nightmare, the dead did indeed come out of the crevices between the rocks. They had the almost forgotten faces of the Maori warriors he had killed and were led by a decomposing Sergeant Samuel Forster. He awoke with a shout, waking the others in fright, expecting a shower of Aboriginal spears to fall on their camp site. Snatching a rifle, Matthew looked across the dying embers of the camp fire.

‘What is it?’ John yelled.

Lachlan was now fully awake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. ‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘I just had a bit of a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.’

The following morning over a mug of hot tea, Lachlan glared at Matthew sitting on a log, poking the fire with a stick.

‘You know that trick we played on you with the snake,’ Lachlan growled. ‘Well, you got me back last night you big heathen bastard. I wouldn’t have had my nightmare if you hadn’t put it in my head with your talk about the dead coming out of Black Hill.’

‘I was serious,’ Matthew answered, continuing to poke the embers and without looking up at Lachlan. ‘There are the spirits of dead people in that place.’

‘I thought that you were a Christian,’ Lachlan said.

‘I got my education from missionaries,’ Matthew smiled. ‘I didn’t say I was a Christian.’

‘Thought so,’ Lachlan sighed. ‘I let myself go bush with a heathen Maori who is probably a cannibal on top of everything else.’

‘I didn’t say I wasn’t a cannibal,’ Matthew grinned.

John had listened to the banter between the two men and noted their camaraderie. He could see that for some strange reason the two men – once former enemies – were as close as any two brothers. He could only surmise that it had grown from the bond that develops between men who have known the horrors of armed conflict, regardless of which side they fought on. He envied Matthew for his relationship with his brother, but was also grateful that Lachlan had such a man by his side. He had Nicholas by his, and seeing the closeness his brother shared with Matthew he was beginning to appreciate more his own relationship with Nicholas. Where Lachlan and Matthew were men of action, however, Nicholas’s strength lay in his mind and the ability to manipulate the world around him. That was what he was doing now, John mused, rolling up his blanket, working towards destroying Major Charles Lightfoot. How, John was only vaguely aware but he knew all would be revealed in time. Whatever scheme Nicholas was working on was guaranteed to succeed. Nicholas was not a man to lose.

‘My company was going to purchase this stretch of estate,’ Nicholas Busby said, standing in the street with Charles Lightfoot gazing at the long row of empty warehouses on the harbour foreshore. ‘But we are committed to another investment and a bit over-extended at the moment. So, I remembered you and, as a great favour, put your name first on the list to possibly buy the land before it comes on the market. It will be worth a fortune to anyone with the money to snap it up now and resell within a month.’

Charles Lightfoot cast his eye over the vast stretch of vacant buildings. ‘How much is the vendor asking?’ he
queried. ‘That is a lot to ask,’ Lightfoot replied when Nicholas gave him a price. ‘To do so would be using all Sir Percival’s capital.’

‘Ah, but I predict that when you resold you would triple your return,’ Nicholas replied. ‘You would have to act fast, for when the sale is announced it will not remain on the market for long. The buildings are ready to use for any factory or storehouse business on a large scale. There are plenty in Sydney with financial means and prepared to take a gamble – although I do not see the purchase, of this tract of land as being much of a risk when I know the current market here.’

Lightfoot frowned. He knew that he had access to the amount required for the purchase but it was everything that Sir Percival had shifted to the colonies. In his mind, he quickly calculated his commission on the transaction, and the frown evaporated from his face. It was enough to live off for a couple of years in the lifestyle suited to a gentleman. ‘You say it could be put back on the market almost immediately after purchase for triple the price I might pay?’

‘That’s right,’ Nicholas said, cupping his hand to light a cigar. ‘You would not even have known about this deal if I had been in a position to buy it myself.’

‘I would have preferred to have spoken to my brother-in-law first,’ Lightfoot said.

‘I believe he is probably up in Cooktown by now, getting ready to have a look at his hill,’ Nicholas said, blowing smoke into the still air. ‘Maybe you could consult his wife – your sister,’ he suggested.

‘That is a bit hard, old chap,’ Lightfoot mused. ‘At the last moment, my sister insisted on travelling with him to Queensland. She said that she would be bored waiting for him in Sydney.’

Nicholas paled. From what he had heard, Lightfoot’s
sister was well acquainted with Lachlan MacDonald and would surely come across him in Cooktown. To do so might cause suspicion and ruin Nicholas’s long-contrived plan to ruin Lightfoot. Already Nicholas was considering telegraphing Lachlan to warn him of the unexpected development. Or was it already too late?

‘I will go ahead with the purchase,’ Lightfoot said.

‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Nicholas said, his mind focused a thousand miles north, rather than where he stood with Lightfoot.

‘I said I will go ahead with the purchase,’ Lightfoot reiterated. ‘No doubt you are able to assist me with that.’

‘Wise decision,’ Nicholas replied. ‘As a matter of fact, I have just the solicitor in mind who will handle the paperwork. A young chap by the name of Daniel Duffy.’

Lightfoot nodded. He was both excited and frightened by his decision. But Nicholas Busby had already proved his worth as a man who knew how to make money and if he recommended the purchase then that was good enough. But a small fear continued to nag him. What if something went wrong? It was a long drop from riches to rags. If Sir Percival had not been so besotted with Amanda, then he himself would not even be considering such a huge outlay of another man’s money. But it was an easy way to make an income. One did not have to work for the return like a common person. After all, money made money.

‘Sir Percival Sparkes is over there,’ the crewman from the coastal steamer told John.

He, Lachlan and Matthew had gone down to the jetty on the Endeavour Paver to await the boat’s arrival. When it docked, John had approached the gangplank while Lachlan
and Matthew had remained with the wagon they had hired to transport the Englishman’s luggage to the accommodation they had arranged for him. Through the crowd, John could see a tall, well-dressed, handsome man with an aristocratic bearing, standing by a large pile of trunks. Beside him stood a striking young woman wearing a free-flowing dress of pure white and a sun-bonnet and carrying a parasol. For a moment, John was puzzled. Who was she? Suddenly he had the answer. It had to be Sir Percival’s wife, Amanda. He gasped. His first thought was to warn his brother and find someone else to guide Sir Percival to his mountain. But this thought was curtailed when Lachlan suddenly appeared beside him.

‘Thought I should come down to help our visitor with his luggage,’ Lachlan said lightly.

‘Lachlan, I have . . . ’ John started, but was cut short.

‘God Almighty,’ Lachlan gasped. The beautiful woman had swung around and her eyes fixed on Lachlan. From the expression on her face, it was clear that she had recognised him immediately. Her eyes were wide, as if she had been frightened by a ghost, and for a brief moment it appeared that she might swoon.

‘Damn!’ Lachlan swore under his breath. ‘What in hell is she doing here?’

‘I doubt that it matters now,’ John answered glumly. ‘The cat is out of the bag – as they say. Well, we may as well go over and introduce ourselves to Sir Percival and Lady Amanda Sparkes.’

As they pushed their way through the crowd milling around the jetty, Amanda’s expression did not change. Lachlan tried to remain stony-faced.

‘Sir Percival,’ John said, thrusting out his hand. ‘I am John MacDonald and may I introduce my brother and your guide, Mr Lachlan MacDonald.’

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,’ Sir Percival said warmly. ‘I would like to introduce my charming wife, Lady Amanda.’

Amanda smiled wanly and averted her eyes. She had said nothing about already knowing him and for this Lachlan was grateful.

‘Well, Lachlan has arranged a wagon to take you and your luggage to the best hotel that had a vacancy. I hope it is suitable, although we were not expecting Lady Amanda to be accompanying you on this expedition.’

‘I have always had an interest in seeing new places,’ Amanda spoke up. ‘I have had the good fortune to see much of the world and was not going to miss out on visiting this part of the colony. I once even spent time in New Zealand with my brother, during the Waikato campaign.’

‘Ah, yes,’ John said, clearing his throat. ‘So did my brother Lachlan.’

‘Did you soldier there?’ Sir Percival asked with interest.

‘I did,’ Lachlan replied quietly. ‘I was with Von Tempsky’s Rangers company.’

‘Ah, then you would not have known my brother-in-law, Major Charles Lightfoot. He was a captain at the time of his service in New Zealand.’

Lachlan caught Amanda’s eye for a fraction of a second. ‘I’m afraid not.’

‘I served in the Crimea with my father’s regiment,’ Sir Percival said. ‘But I did so as a mere ensign. Did you hold a commission?’

‘Corporal,’ Lachlan replied, reaching for one of the heavy chests. ‘I finished my service around ’65 and returned to Sydney.’

‘Then you would have received the campaign medal for New Zealand,’ Sir Percival continued in a chatty mood.

‘I was not much interested in medals,’ Lachlan said. ‘My brother made application for it on my behalf. He said that it was good for the family inheritance.’

‘Something for your wife and children, no doubt,’ Sir Percival said.

‘I have neither wife nor children,’ Lachlan replied, hefting the chest onto his shoulder and noticing just the slightest change in Amanda’s expression.

Loading the wagon, Lachlan tried to remain calm, but he now had to admit to himself that he had never stopped loving Amanda despite his vow to ruin her. He only hoped that his legs would not give way as he hoisted the chest onto the tray.

Lachlan quickly introduced Matthew to Sir Percival and Amanda. He had never mentioned Amanda to the former Maori warrior but at least it was out in the open that he had served in New Zealand. It was one less lie to hide.

John took over settling their guests and their luggage into their hotel, but all the while Lachlan and Amanda did not speak to each other. However, the tension in the air was palpable. Lachlan longed to be with Amanda alone so he could ask the question that had haunted him for over a decade. Why? Why had she so suddenly and inexplicably broken all contact with him, after professing her love in such tender terms through her letters?

The opportunity to speak to Amanda alone did not arise while they were in Cooktown. Lachlan was occupied arranging for extra supplies now there was an additional person accompanying them on the trip south to Black Mountain. He was also kept busy ensuring that John’s trek to the Palmer goldfields was well organised and locating the Dutchman who would guide his brother. By the time he had completed his work, it was well into the evening. He
returned to the stables, where John was standing guard over their precious supplies.