Blood Bond (8 page)

‘I can count seven people,' Fergus said. ‘Looks like there are rowboats hauled up on the beach.'

‘There are a couple of people near that house behind the beach, too,' said Robert.

‘Shall I fire off a signal shot?' Steven asked his father.

‘Better not. We don't know how they'll react. Let's just sail in nice and peacefully.' He looked anxiously at the depth sounder; although they were still a long way from the beach, the bay was very shallow. He swung
Archangel
around and headed away from the beach again. ‘Drop the mizzen and main,' he called as soon as the depth of the water had increased, and willing hands set about lowering the sails. Robert and Luke, however, remained glued to the binoculars.

Mark was annoyed. The surly Robert always needed to be prodded into action, but Luke was usually the first to step forward when anything needed to be done. He opened his mouth to scold them but then noticed Allison watching him. He decided not to say anything. There was no need to run the risk of being accused of ‘going on at them' again.

Wondering why the two boys were continually snatching the glasses from one another, he held the wheel with one hand and lifted his own binoculars with the other. Suddenly he realised the reason for the boys' interest. He jammed his knee against the wheel to hold it firm and took the glasses in both hands, focusing on the group on the beach. They were much closer now and he counted them: eleven adults and half as many children, their dark skins suggesting they were Aborigines, the naked bodies of the adults telling him with
certainty that they were all women.

‘Stand by to drop anchor — you two can do that,' he snapped to Luke and Robert. Reluctantly, each taking one last look through the glasses, they put them down and hurried forward. The group ashore watched
Archangel
for a few seconds until they heard the sound of the anchor chain as it rattled in a cloud of rust from the hawsepipe. The women then immediately grabbed the children and ran off towards a group of houses on the other side of the road that ran along the beach.

‘Come back!' yelled Steven. ‘We're friends!' But the group was too far away to hear his voice.

Having secured the anchor chain, Robert and Luke immediately moved to the stern and began lowering the dinghy from
Archangel
's davits.

‘Wait,' Mark said. ‘The people ashore are obviously frightened. We don't want them running off — it could take ages for us to find them again.' He could sense the disappointment of everyone on deck. ‘They'll know their way around a lot better than we will,' he explained. ‘We'll just sit here quietly, show we're no threat and wait for them to come to us.'

‘And what if they don't come?' Robert challenged.

‘I'm sure curiosity will get the better of them.'

‘And if it doesn't?'

‘If they haven't come out in a couple of days, we'll row in.'

‘A couple of days!'

Steven had continued to scan the shoreline with his binoculars. ‘We need fresh food. There's a small group of kangaroo further along, on that patch of grass above the beach road.'

Mark looked at the creatures hopping around, grazing in the still of the twilight. ‘Well, it's too late to risk going ashore now anyway. Remember what happened the last time we had a party caught out ashore in the dark.'

‘I'll get supper,' Allison said, realising an argument was brewing. ‘We can afford to make something special tonight.'

‘Kangaroo steaks would be nice,' Robert said, clearly keen to rally support for a party to be allowed to go ashore.

‘We're having biltong and potatoes. You and your brother can give me a hand,' Allison said sternly. They followed her below, the scowl on Robert's face even more pronounced than usual.

Mark continued to scan the settlement with his binoculars. The community seemed to be well established. He picked out what appeared to be latrines at the top of the beach and saw women collecting water from a nearby well, then hurrying back into the houses.

‘I want a watch maintained tonight,' Mark said, turning to Fergus and Steven. ‘We three will stand our normal watches. The rest of the crew can rest.' Fergus looked at him enquiringly. ‘I don't want any surprises in the middle of the night.'

Standing the eight-to-twelve watch, Steven found he had plenty of company. He had fully understood his father's comment and maintained an eagle eye on the shore. Only Mark, intent on getting some sleep before his twelve-to-four watch, had turned in after supper. The remainder of the crew stayed on deck, talking excitedly and glancing frequently towards the shore, hoping to hear the sound of lapping oars. A fire on the beach and light emanating from two of the houses on shore confirmed that at least the residents of the beachside settlement had not run away.

As the evening progressed, they saw figures pass in front of the fires on the beach, but no boat came out to them. Gradually the crew slipped away until only Steven and Penny remained in the cockpit. They were pleased to be alone at last, and the sound of waves lapping on the beach nearby was a welcome change from the screaming winds that had been their companion for so many days before their arrival at Brisbane. They were a little sad when, at five minutes before midnight, Mark stumbled through the hatch to relieve them.

‘Everything all right?' he asked.

‘No problems,' Steven assured him, standing and stretching. ‘There was a bit of noise on the beach half an hour ago, but nothing since. The fires are dying down. I'm guessing they've all moved into the houses to sleep.'

‘OK, have a good sleep yourselves.'

As they left Mark moved forward and double-checked the anchor before settling down in the cockpit. He began wondering why he hadn't seen any men on the beach. Were there any men? Were they away on a hunting trip? Who were the women? How had they survived? Could they be related to him? It didn't seem likely — they definitely looked Aborigine.

Obviously they hadn't run away from their settlement. Maybe waiting a couple of days was overkill. If they had made no approach before noon, he decided, he'd lead a party ashore.

The decision made, he settled down to enjoy the peace and quiet of the night, the gentle rocking of the boat and the glint of moonlight in the rigging. If only Allison had come up to enjoy it with him.

Towards the end of his watch, he heard noises below. Perhaps Allison had woken up and was coming up to spend time with him after all. But it was Robert who emerged through the hatchway.

‘Nice night,' Mark said as the boy climbed into the cockpit.

‘Are we going ashore in the morning?'

‘Maybe. Maybe not. Steven and I will do a recce first. If it's not safe we'll sail off and land somewhere else.'

Robert stood on the boarding platform relieving himself, peering across to the beach. He stood there for a long time before climbing back aboard and heading down below.

 

‘Keep your eyes peeled,' Mark commanded Fergus as he handed over the watch at four o'clock in the morning. Jessica had come up with Fergus, and the couple held hands as usual. Mark felt a little jealous.

Fergus picked up the binoculars and focused them on the shore, picking out the dim glow of embers. ‘You still expecting trouble?'

‘You never know — just stay alert. I don't want the pair of you nodding off.'

‘Don't worry, I'll make sure he stays awake,' Jessica said as Mark climbed through the hatch.

It seemed an age before they felt sure Mark was safely in his bunk. They had one last look at the beach then, with Jessica leading the way, they tiptoed barefoot up to the foredeck.

 

The twelve-to-four watch that Mark had allocated to himself was the most difficult watch from a sleep perspective. You snatched a few hours' sleep before midnight, you stood your watch and then, having handed over to the next watch, you fought to get back to sleep again before dawn.

Tonight, Mark found getting rest more difficult than usual. It was his first night at anchor on a boat for more than a year. The straining of the rigging and the sounds made by the movement of the hull through water when under sail were replaced by less familiar sounds: the anchor grinding in its lead, unfamiliar creaks and groans from within the hull. He heard sounds on the foredeck — probably Fergus and Jessica checking the anchor. He didn't hear them return to the cockpit, and concluded that they were watching the beach from the bow. He began to doze off.

Then he woke suddenly. Someone was moving about in the cabin. He waited for the telltale creak of the head door, but instead there was the distinctive groan of the second step of the companionway ladder. Must be one of the men going up on deck to ‘hang ten'. Couldn't be Robert, he'd already gone. Luke always slept through the night. Fergus was on deck. It must be Steven. Mark drifted off to sleep.

He had strange dreams. He saw Aunt Margaret trying desperately to manoeuvre her wheelchair away from Damian. Then he saw naked black women sitting around a fire and heard voices chanting ‘Robert's gone, Robert's gone'.

But it wasn't a dream. He woke with a start. It was Allison.

‘Robert's gone,' she repeated.

‘What do you mean, he's gone?'

She scurried away without answering the question and he was left to hurriedly pull on his shorts and T-shirt before following her on deck.

Everyone was already waiting for him. They all knew how furious he would be. After they had realised Robert had disappeared, it had taken five minutes before Allison could be persuaded to go below and give Mark the news.

Mark squinted in the bright sunlight. ‘What time is it?' he asked.

‘Ten-thirty,' said Steven, who was busy clearing the davit lines to the dinghy.

‘What! How long's he been gone?'

‘We don't know,' Fergus replied sheepishly.

‘What do you mean you don't know?'

‘We thought he was still in his bunk — no one bothered to look. He must have gone ashore some time during the night.'

‘On your watch,' accused Mark, jabbing Fergus in the chest.

‘It could have been any time. It could have been on your watch.'

‘Rubbish! It wasn't on Steven's watch either. Robert came up on deck at three-thirty for a pee.'

‘He didn't come up while we were here. We were in the cockpit all the time.'

‘And awake all the time,' said Jessica, coming to Fergus's defence.

‘You weren't in the cockpit all the time — I heard you on the foredeck.'

‘What does it matter when he went?' Steven asked. ‘Let's go and get him back. We need to go ashore and make contact anyway. They've made no move to come out to us.'

Mark took the binoculars and scanned the beach. There were three women working on nets near two boats. A gaggle of small children were playing nearby. There was no sign of Robert.

‘OK,' he said, nodding to Steven. ‘Let's get going.'

‘I'm coming too,' Luke said.

‘Oh no you're not.'

‘He's my brother.'

‘Let him come,' Steven suggested. ‘We need another oarsman.'

‘Just behave yourself,' Mark warned, but Luke had already clambered into the dinghy.

‘I'll come too,' said Fergus.

‘You can stay where you are,' Mark snapped. ‘And this time do
your job properly. Keep your eyes open, look after
Archangel
and look after the rest of the crew!'

‘I'm coming with you,' Allison said, adding before Mark could disagree, ‘All you've got on the beach is women. They'll be a lot more relaxed if they see a woman in the dinghy.' Mark nodded and Allison clambered into the bow.

‘What about rifles?' Steven asked as Mark climbed in the stern.

‘Surely it would be better we go unarmed — prove we mean them no harm?' Allison suggested.

Mark nodded and glanced up to the rest of the crew. ‘Hopefully this won't take long, then the rest of you can get ashore and stretch your legs.'

‘We're going ashore, we're going ashore,' chanted Tommy and Lee as Steven and Luke began rowing the dinghy clear of
Archangel
's stern.

‘Well, a trip ashore will certainly add to their education,' Steven said quietly to the grinning Luke as they pulled on the oars.

Mark was too angry with Robert to be amused. As Steven and Luke rowed, he sat in the transom scanning the beach with his binoculars. As they drew closer to the beach, the children ran away towards the houses and the women stopped their work. They picked up what appeared to be walking sticks and sauntered down the beach towards the approaching dinghy. ‘Stop rowing,' he said suddenly. ‘They're carrying spears.'

‘Duck,' yelled Allison. Hearing the terror in her voice, they obeyed her instructions instantly, Luke and Steven rolling backwards into the bilges as Mark threw himself on top of them. A strange whirring sound drew closer and as they all looked up they saw the blurred form of a boomerang circle the boat and head back towards shore.

‘What do you want?' yelled a male voice.

Tentatively, Luke, Mark, Steven and Allison poked their heads above the dinghy's gunwales. ‘I asked what do you want?' repeated the voice.

Standing beside a tree on the beach, clutching the boomerang, stood a burly, muscular man of about forty years of age, wearing a pair of baggy khaki shorts. At his side were eight naked women, each
holding a spear. There was one other striking difference between the women and the man: he was white.

‘Come on,' Mark said to Luke and Steven, ‘let's row in.'

‘What you want?' challenged the voice again as Luke and Steven started to row.

‘You've got one of our crew — we want him back.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about. Hold it right there, unless you want to lose your heads.' He raised the boomerang, ready to throw.

‘OK,' yelled Mark. ‘We'll stay out here. We just want to talk.' He lowered his voice. ‘Back off a bit and point the bow towards
Archangel
— just in case we need to get out of here in a hurry,' he said to Steven and Luke.

As they backed away, the man lowered the boomerang. ‘Where are you from?' he called.

‘From New Zealand and England,' Mark replied.

‘Might have known it. Bloody Poms and Kiwi sheep-shaggers,' laughed the man. The women standing beside him giggled.

‘I'm Mark — what's your name?'

‘Corky.'

‘What's your real name?'

‘None of your business. Just call me Corky. What do you want?'

‘We want our crewman back.'

‘What the hell are you talking about?' The tallest of the group of women leaned forward and whispered in Corky's ear. ‘Oh, apparently he is here. The randy little bastard's busy by all accounts.' There was more than a hint of annoyance in Corky's voice. He said something to the tall woman and she ran off up the beach. ‘But why are you here at all?'

‘We're low on food and water. We need more supplies in order to get back to New Zealand.'

‘And how did you know to come here? As far as I know, we're the only people left alive in Australia.'

‘Is your name Chatfield?' Mark asked.

‘Nope.' He hesitated, then added, ‘But my grandfather on my mother's side was a Chatfield.'

‘Was he a British merchant seaman?'

‘Yep. How do you know so much, you smart-arse?'

‘Because we're related — we're Chatfields too. We seem to be the only family in the world to possess a special gene — something in our blood line that's enabled us to survive the pandemic.'

‘Well, you don't know everything do you, sheep-shagger? These Abos may be related to you, but they're certainly not related to me.'

‘How come you're together then?'

‘Stumbled across them over at Straddie.'

‘What about their menfolk?'

‘They ain't got any menfolk,' he replied without elaborating further. ‘They've just got me.'

‘Can we come ashore and talk properly?'

‘No, you can't. You want to talk — stay there and talk.'

Mark decided to try a different tack. ‘I see you've got children. You got any boys?'

‘Got a couple — but none are mine. Trying my best, but all I'm chalking up is sheilas.'

‘That's why we need to talk. You need fresh blood. Otherwise your community is doomed.'

‘You aren't setting foot on my beach,' Corky threatened. One of the Aboriginal women said something to him and he turned and looked up the beach. Robert had emerged from one of the houses and was sauntering towards them, holding the hand of a naked young woman.

‘You all right, lad?' yelled Mark.

‘Well, that was a stupid question,' Steven said quietly. Robert didn't reply.

‘Come on, Robert — stop fooling about,' Mark called. ‘Swim out to the dinghy.'

‘Well,' Corky said in a loud voice. ‘What do you want to do, lad — stay here with this girl or continue on to New Zealand?'

‘Another stupid question,' muttered Steven.

For once Robert's scowl was replaced with a grin. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Stay here, of course.'

‘I guess you've got your answer,' Corky called to Mark. ‘You said I
needed more male genes, and it looks like you've solved the problem for me. Now piss off and get your boat out of here.'

‘But we can help one another.'

‘You've got nothing else I want,' sneered Corky. ‘We're running a risk of disease as it is with this randy little runt here.' He turned towards Robert. ‘Get back in the house. Take the girl with you. You're both in isolation, do you understand?' Robert nodded his head, the smirk still on his face. ‘Don't let me catch either of you outside the house until I say so. Food and water will be left on the veranda.'

As Robert and the girl hurried away, Corky turned back to face Mark. ‘Now get your anchor up and get out of here. If you try to get ashore I won't take any chances — not with you, or with him,' he said, jerking his thumb towards the retreating Robert. ‘He'll be shot in his bed.'