Blood Bond (23 page)

Steven began preparations for the voyage to Brisbane immediately. With the canal-side gardens swept away by the tsunami and the flock of sheep and cattle decimated by the dogs, there was precious little food to spare. Foraging parties were despatched to search the nearby suburbs for fruit and self-sown vegetables. Everyone was involved, but contact between the three separate groups was avoided at all times.

Mark insisted on a double-pronged approach by the foraging parties. In addition to gathering food to satisfy the immediate requirements of the community and the upcoming voyage of
Archangel
, selected plants and trees were to be dug up and transported back to Marina Hill to stock the new gardens being established on the slopes. Dinghies were located in garages and driveways and dragged down to the beach. Whenever a school of fish was spotted in the bay a hue and cry went up and a small flotilla headed out in pursuit. A smokehouse was established and often functioned for days at a time, preserving as much fish as possible.

At first light each morning Mark would set off alone for a run, criss-crossing the peninsula. He was always armed. As he ran, he searched for signs that Jane might have passed that same way recently, even though he knew in his heart it was almost certain that she had been swept away by the tsunami.

He felt her loss acutely. His wife Helen had been the first person in New Zealand to have been claimed by the pandemic, having died on the plane shortly after it landed in Auckland from Singapore. He'd lost Jane to the tsunami. And now he was in danger of losing his son. If Steven would not abandon Penny and Lee, his future relationship with his son would be conversations across a barrier — or the separation of half a planet.

On the morning of
Archangel
's departure, Steven and Mark stood facing each other over the tape. It was the first time they had been alone since they had discussed Lee's isolation from the remainder of the community. They could both feel the tension in the air.

‘When are you off?' Mark asked.

‘Shortly. Penny and Lee are aboard. I've just got the final dinghy-load of food to ferry out and we'll be on our way.'

‘You sure you've got enough food?'

‘Pretty sure. I'm hoping to pick up more supplies in Brisbane, but even if we don't, I reckon we've got enough to see us through.'

‘While you're away, have a good think about Penny, Lee and your future,' Mark said, trying not to let the desperation show in his voice.

‘I've done all the thinking I need to do,' Steven said, turning and walking away.

‘Don't take any chances with Corky,' Mark called after him. ‘He's a nasty piece of work.'

Steven did not turn around. He simply waved his hand above his head in farewell.

 

Archangel
's journey up the northeastern coast of New Zealand could hardly have got off to a better start. A twenty-five knot southwesterly had the yacht scooting along at eight knots. With no GPS and no lights to navigate by, Steven set a dead-reckoning course well out to
sea. He was pleased with his decision when the wind died shortly after dark.
Archangel
carried sufficient diesel for only twelve hours' motoring and he needed to save it for emergencies. There was no moon and the vessel wallowed uncomfortably in the sea that had built up earlier in the day, the main and mizzen flogging noisily as the yacht moved along in the current. It was simply a case of waiting for the wind to return.

‘Why don't you turn in?' he suggested to Penny.

She snuggled closer, looking up at the stars, which in the absence of the moon seemed even brighter than usual. ‘In a little while.' He sensed that, like him, she was enjoying being alone together. ‘What will you do if Robert and Luke won't leave Brisbane, or if they've moved on and we can't find them?' she asked.

‘Then I guess we'll have to go back to Gulf Harbour empty-handed.'

‘We could keep going. If your father insists we remain in isolation indefinitely, there's no future for us at Gulf Harbour. We'll be living on the edge of the community as outcasts.'

‘Maybe, but we'd still be able to contribute. We'd have company, even if it is across a fence.'

‘I can't think of anything worse.'

‘I don't see we have any choice.'

‘We
do
have a choice. If we can't find Robert and Luke, or if we can't persuade them to return to Gulf Harbour with us, we can just keep on sailing and return to England.'

‘You must be joking? What about…'

‘What's that?' Penny interrupted. Steven looked up and saw the sky was alive with lights streaming towards earth. ‘Are they shooting stars?'

‘No, they're too bright for that — it's got to be something really big. My guess is it's the international space station breaking up. You remember we talked about it when we were sailing out here.'

They watched as the fiery spectacular continued. It looked like the space station had broken into several large chunks on re-entry — chunks that were now dispersed across several degrees of the horizon and hurtling towards Earth.

‘Mummy, I can't sleep.'

Lee was standing at the top of the companionway steps.

‘Go on, you look after him,' Steven said. ‘I'll be down to join you later.'

She pulled him close, kissed him and went below to attend to her son. Steven was left alone to ponder their conversation.

The tsunami had changed everything. It had destroyed the Gulf Harbour complex he had helped build and claimed the lives of three, possibly four adults. The deaths, together with the loss of Zoë, had unsettled everyone, including himself. He was no longer sure what he wanted to do.

 

The voyage to Brisbane was proving exhausting. While Steven had no fear of colliding with moving ships, he was worried about floating wrecks such as the
Northern Princess
, which he and his father had encountered on their earlier trip to England. There were also semi-submerged containers to worry about.

On moonless nights, they had no option but to sail on under the control of the self-steering and hope for the best, but during the day, and when the moon was shining, they felt compelled to keep watch. Young Lee was often left to stand watch during the day while his mother and Steven rested.

It didn't help that they were sailing ‘the wrong way' — from east to west. While the rhumb-line course from New Zealand's North Cape to Brisbane was 285 degrees magnetic, Steven decided to head higher, passing to the south of Norfolk Island. Accounts of Tasman passages in
Archangel
's log suggested the possibility of easterly winds in lower latitudes, as areas of high pressure formed between Australia and New Zealand. Before the pandemic, it would have been a simple matter of searching the internet for a seven-day forecast and planning the route accordingly. Now, beyond looking at the sky and forecasting the weather for the next few hours, there was no certainty.

They felt elated when the promised easterly set in. However, as it gradually built to more than thirty knots, their elation turned to misery.
Archangel
twisted, turned and rolled in the following sea. With waves of over five metres breaking on
Archangel
's stern, the usually
faithful self-steering gear was unable to cope and they were forced to steer by hand. Lee was wedged into the starboard bunk with bedding while Steven and Penny remained in the cockpit, clipped on with safety harnesses, taking turns to steer for thirty minutes and dozing during their break. Trips below deck were restricted to stumbling down the hatchway to check on Lee, use the toilet and grab food and water. The boat's violent motion was so severe that there was no question of cooking or making a hot drink. For what seemed an eternity, the wind blew and
Archangel
rolled. The voyage became a fight for survival, a period of unrelenting misery, sleep deprivation and exhaustion.

Finally, the winds died, rain came and flattened the sea and the self-steering could be used again. Steven and Penny stumbled below and collapsed, fully clothed, onto the saloon floor to sleep. Only when Lee finally woke them and they checked the ship's chronometer did they discover that the blow had lasted only four days. They had been convinced it had lasted a week.

Steven had experienced nothing so bad since the great storm he and his father had encountered off Cape Horn on the voyage from New Zealand to England eighteen months earlier. Despite having sailed out from England, Penny had never experienced such misery in her life as the voyage across the Tasman. It made her all the more determined to return directly to England if the opportunity arose.

Then, like her experience of childbirth, the memory of the bad weather began to fade. The sun shone and they saw a pod of whales blowing a few hundred metres off the boat. Three albatrosses followed them for several days, gliding effortlessly over the wave-tops for hours on end.

Archangel
made landfall off Moreton Island, east of Brisbane Harbour, late one afternoon. As evening approached, Steven had still not sighted the mark that would lead them into North East Channel, and darkness did not bring the flashing light he hoped for. While he hoped that some of the solar-powered lights further down the channel might still be operating, he was not prepared to risk navigating it in the dark. They reduced sail and spent an uncomfortable night reaching back and forth in the outer channel.

In the morning, they picked their way down North East and East channels before changing course towards St Helena Island, which prevented their approach being witnessed from Corky's settlement. In mid-afternoon they dropped anchor to the east of the island and took the chance to have a good night's sleep. ‘I think it would be safer if we wait until darkness to go ashore. Then I'll row to Wynnum Creek by myself and reconnoitre Corky's camp,' Steven said to Penny when they woke the next day.

‘No way. We're coming with you.'

‘I think it would be safer if I checked things out myself first.'

‘Like I said, we're coming with you.'

‘Well, at least let's leave Lee aboard.'

Penny shook her head. ‘We have to stick together.'

As dusk gathered, Steven collected his rifle and helped Penny pack a small rucksack with sufficient food for twenty-four hours. They agreed that
Archangel
would remain tucked behind St Helena Island, out of sight of Corky, which meant a three-mile row to Wynnum Creek. As darkness fell, they lowered the dinghy and climbed in.

They cleared St Helena Island and set course for the mainland. As Steven rowed, Penny searched the shoreline for signs of life — the light of a fire or candle — but there were none. They rowed up Wynnum Creek and hid their dinghy in the mangroves before clambering over a rotting hulk onto the shore.

Rifle in hand, Steven led Penny and Lee cautiously along the road that ran along the water's edge through the seaside resorts of Wynnum and Manly towards Corky's settlement. They reached Darling Point, at the northern end of Rose Bay, and stared ahead to the dim outline of the houses which were the homes used by his community. Still there were no signs of life. They hid in the mangroves at the edge of the beach, listening to the fish jumping in the shallows, and waited for the dawn.

As the sky lightened, they could pick out the bungalows more distinctly. Further along the beach they could see the dim outline of the boats that had been used to ferry food out to
Archangel
on her previous visit.

‘It looks deserted,' Penny whispered to Steven.

‘I agree. I would have expected to see some signs of life by now.'

Steven was nervous. There was no sign of movement, no tell-tale plumes of smoke. He continued to scan the area with his binoculars. ‘I don't like the look of it,' he said finally. ‘I can see what looks like a row of fresh graves on that rise above the beach. I'm sure they weren't there last time.'

An hour later, with still no signs of life, Steven led Penny and Lee through a park and along the road in order to approach the beachside bungalows from the rear. They reached the bungalow that Robert had gone into with the Aboriginal girl, but when Steven peered through the windows, he could see no indications that they were still living there. Motioning to Penny and Lee to remain outside, he cautiously entered the house, rifle at the ready. He searched room by room but found no sign that anyone had lived in the house for some time.

‘Empty,' he announced as he walked out the back door. Penny and Lee were standing a few metres away, their posture awkward. He noticed the alarm in their faces just before he felt a jab in his back.

‘Drop the rifle, sheep-shagger.' Another jab convinced him that Corky was holding a gun. He threw his rifle on the grass in front of him and turned around. ‘We don't mean you any harm.'

‘Yeah, right. That's what you told me last time you came, and look what happened.'

‘What?'

‘Walk to the top of the beach, I'll show you.'

Corky motioned to Steven, Penny and Lee to walk ahead of him. Steven glanced at his discarded rifle. ‘Don't even think about it,' Corky warned. ‘Over there,' he said, pointing at the neat row of graves.

They stared down at the mounds of earth, each topped with a simple cross with a name burnt into the wood. Six of the graves were small.

‘That's what happened,' Corky said. ‘Those disease-ridden little runts you left here made us all ill. It killed off my women and the kids, and it nearly killed me too.'

Lee pointed to a small grave bearing the name Harriet. ‘That was the little girl with the koala who Tommy and I played with in the boat,' he whispered to his mother.

Steven walked over to a grave a little way away from the rest and cleared away the grass growing over it. His heart sank. A small, carved tablet set in the ground read ‘Robert Dalton'.