Papua (14 page)

For the next four days Paul insisted on remaining at their present campsite. Every day the villagers would come and squat to watch the ancestor spirit go about his daily duties. Nothing Paul did went unnoticed. When he threw out the shaving water the villagers scrabbled to retrieve the remains. It was discussed that possession of any part of the ancestor spirit was strong magic against other more malevolent spirits of the forest.

The canoe builder was a constant companion and it was Dademo who made the language breakthrough with him. He learned that his name was Serero and that he was a respected member of his clan for his skills in oratory and boat building. With patience and a mix of pantomime and words, a story unfolded that other white ancestor spirits had been reported further upstream. But these spirits were wrathful. They had killed many villagers and put able men into bondage against their will with ropes made of the same strange shiny stone as the axe heads. When Dademo related the story to Paul in his tent he listened and spat, ‘O’Leary. Does the canoe builder know of a white woman with O’Leary?’

‘He thinks that there was a white missus with the ancestor spirits.’

Paul stared through the tent flap at the giant rainforest trees that reared up at the edge of the clearing. Beyond the trees was the river. The malarial bouts had been fewer and fewer and his strength had returned. The porters were in good spirits and Dademo had proved to be a better than expected head boy. In fact Paul had grown to admire and respect the cheerful and competent young man from Port Moresby much as he would a competent senior non-commissioned officer of the old German army. If only the Australians had not overrun New Guinea in the early part of the war then the German army might have been able to recruit such men into their ranks. But he also knew the European aversion to arming natives. Such an act might give them future ideas as regards their colonial masters.

Paul and his party were well supplied with sago, pork and other vegetables by the local natives who had forgiven him the wounded warrior’s condition. Compensation had been heavy however. The trade goods were dwindling. It was this fact that influenced Paul’s decision. He must make one last attempt to track O’Leary’s party down and ascertain whether Iris was in his company – or even alive for that matter.

Dademo stood patiently while Paul filled his old briar pipe – a souvenir taken from a dead British officer – and lit the tobacco. He puffed a couple of times then finally spoke. ‘See if the canoe builder will take us upriver in one of his boats. Tell him we will give him the rest of the trade goods for doing so.’

‘I will tell him this,’ Dademo replied with a broad grin, revealing his teeth blackened by years of chewing betel nut. ‘He thinks that you are his dead brother come back to be with him.’

Paul almost choked on the thick smoke of his pipe. ‘He what?!’

‘Yes, Mr Paul,’ Dademo roared laughing. ‘You are a ghost.’

‘Why is it that your people do not believe that we are ghosts then?’

‘Because we are smarter than these bush natives,’ Dademo replied. ‘We are smarter than you think.’

Paul grinned at his cheeky attitude. Let him have his fun, he thought. After all, the natives would never be able to govern themselves. They needed the white man’s superior intellect to guide them.

Dademo found Serero hacking away at the great log. His canoe had been built to carry six people thanks to this new technology of the iron axe. They haggled over the proposal and Dademo finally returned to Paul. ‘He says that he will only take us upriver if you give him your pipe.’

‘Why my pipe?’ Paul asked puzzled by such a simple request.

‘He thinks that the nice tasting smoke is the secret to your magic.’

Paul remembered how their supply of tobacco had clinched the uneasy friendship with the local tribe’s people. But the missionaries to the tropics had long known that secret, and many a soul for the Christian God had been gathered to the fold with tobacco as the inducement. Paul handed the still smoldering pipe to Dademo. ‘Tell him that he can have some of my magic – and I will supply him with enough magic tobacco to keep him puffing for at least half a year.’

Dademo gave the pipe to Serero who immediately stuck it in his mouth and drew back. He inhaled the strong smoke and his eyes watered. He coughed and smiled contentedly. The pact was sealed.

Paul gave orders to break camp. The canoe was almost finished and he would organise to cut a trail to the river so that it could be launched. Then maybe they would find O’Leary. Paul also remembered Sen’s warning. Killing a man was often easy, but from what he had heard of the Irishman and his Corsican partner it would not be so in this case. No doubt they outnumbered and outgunned his own party. It would take every skill he had learned in war to carry out the task.

A
lthough the Townsville Hotel provided an oasis of lazy conversation and cold beer, Jack Kelly had little time to indulge in either. He downed the glass and wiped the froth from his lip, then heaved his swag on his shoulder and stepped outside into the still sweltering heat of the mid afternoon. He had a train to catch for Brisbane, almost a thousand miles south. It took a second to adjust his eyes to the white heat and when he did he was surprised to see Erika standing before him with a small suitcase.

‘I wish to accompany you south to Sydney,’ she said by way of greeting.

Jack took a moment to take in her statement. ‘Won’t you be missed by your family?’ he asked with a frown.

‘My sister-in-law is better off without another mouth to feed and I have planned to leave for some time. Whether I accompany you or not I am leaving on the next train to go south to Sydney.’

Jack shook his head. ‘I suppose if you are that determined to leave home I may as well make sure you get to Sydney safely.’ Although he had expressed his concern for her decision he was secretly pleased to have her travel with him. It would provide an opportunity to get to know the woman who had haunted his dreams since before the war even ended. He bent and picked up her suitcase. ‘C’mon, or we will be late. Do you have a ticket?’

‘I do and I have enough money to pay my way for some time. I expect to get work when I reach Sydney.’

‘Determined miss,’ Jack chuckled as she struggled to keep pace with his long strides. ‘Reckon you will get work with an attitude like that.’

The train pulled away from Townsville with a jolting rattle and long hiss of steam. Erika stared out the window at the heat shrouded gum trees that dotted the landscape. It had been so easy. She had known from the way he had looked at her when they met that her beauty had captivated him. That he could speak her language fluently and was bound to know people in Sydney was the deciding factor for her leaving the hellhole her brother had dumped her in. She had left a letter for Karin to find but did not think that her sister-in-law would object. Just because Karin was one of those
hausfrau
types contented to sit at home waiting for her husband did not mean that she had to live the same life. No, the world had changed since the war and it was now a place for the young to live the hedonistic life promised with the peace. She had read women’s magazines to improve her English and along the way gazed at the latest in fashions, social news and the life she was missing by being stuck at the edge of a wild frontier.

She turned away from the dusty scenery and examined the Australian. It was not that he was unattractive but she felt nothing towards this man. She knew that he had been with the enemy when Wolfgang was killed and her brother wounded. She had long sworn that she would never forget Wolfgang until the day she died. But she also sensed that she was in the company of a man who she knew would care for her until she no longer needed him. Erika was an ambitious woman. Sydney would be merely a stopover on her way home to Munich. There she would be able to convince Adolf that he needed her in his life as his partner.

Erika closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. Her head fell against Jack’s shoulder as the train bumped and screeched south. He did not move lest he wake her and wondered how his luck could have changed so dramatically for the better. Maybe it was an omen for his chances of raising a loan to capitalise the mining venture. He already had a name for the small river where he had found the gold. He would call it Spencer Creek to honour the memory of his best friend. And Spencer Creek would become an international name known to gold miners around the world.

By the time they had reached Sydney some days later, Jack was a little less convinced about Erika coming into his life. On the long trip she had proved to be taciturn to the stage of surly and he had wondered at what he had done wrong. He knew that he was smitten by the beautiful young woman and was convinced that smitten meant in love with her. It had to be when he had cherished the thought of her every time he had gazed upon her visage in the now well-worn photograph. From the trenches of the Western Front in the latter days of the war, on the ship voyage home to Australia and even into the jungles of Papua he had carried her in his heart. But now that he had met her it all seemed different. It was as if she was another woman, not the one he thought he knew from the passionate prose of her letters to Wolfgang. Where was the intensity of spirit? Where was the love she was capable of giving?

As they stood on a platform at Central Railway Station amidst the early morning passengers, Jack was reminded of why he preferred the tropics. Cold driving rain whipped around them. And not only did Jack hate cities but Sydney epitomised all that he hated about them: crowded places of unsmiling people locked in grey jobs and living too close to each other.

Erika however seemed to come alive the moment she stepped off the train. ‘Isn’t it wonderful,’ she exclaimed at the first flurry of cold drizzling rain to greet her.

Jack muttered under his breath and picked up her suitcase. ‘We need to catch the train to Strathfield,’ he said. He had not slept well on the train south and his ill temper at being confined in Sydney was evident.

On the train journey Erika marvelled at the clusters of red roofed houses in the suburbs. They had only stopped one night in the harbour before continuing north to Brisbane. This had not allowed any time to explore the harbour city. Now she asked many questions about Sydney and Jack attempted to answer them. She seemed to have a great interest in what forms of entertainment the city provided. Jack thought this strange. She could have asked about working conditions and employment.

Jack’s sister’s house was only a short walk from the railway station. Jack was taken aback at Harry’s deterioration. Mary’s death had aged his brother-in-law and he had the appearance of a man who had given up on life. When he introduced Erika he hardly seemed to notice the beautiful young woman with Jack.

‘Where is Lukas?’ Jack asked after offering his condolences to Harry. Jack had come to grips with the fact that he would never see his sister again. He felt grief but the war had hardened him to any public display of emotion. Too many times before he had buried good friends. Even the loss of his beloved sister had been a private outpouring of his feelings. He had read the telegram from Harry in Townsville on the footpath outside the post office and gone to his hotel room where he wept uncontrollably for a time. Then he had gathered his feelings and headed straight to the public bar where he drunk himself into a stupor before being helped back up the stairs by the publican to sleep off his private despair.

‘Young Lukas is next door being looked after by Mrs Casey,’ Harry replied. ‘What are you going to do about him?’ Jack did not bridle at the bluntly delivered question. Harry was a good man but he was not responsible for raising someone else’s son.

‘I’ve made arrangements to take him north with me to be looked after by a lady in Townsville. She has a son about the same age as Lukas and I think she will do a good job until I get myself settled.’

Harry nodded vaguely. ‘God, I miss her, Jack,’ he said, and tears tumbled down his cheeks. ‘I took leave to get myself together but I don’t think I can,’ he sobbed softly.

Jack leaned forward and put his hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder. ‘You will cope, old fella. Time heals all wounds.’

Harry wiped away the tears and tried to smile. ‘I suppose of all people you would know,’ he said. ‘You must have lost a lot of mates during the war.’

‘A few,’ Jack said as he sat back in his chair. ‘We all have.’

‘If you want a place to flop for a while you can stay here,’ Harry said. ‘Plenty of room for yourself and the young lady.’

‘Thanks, Harry. I need a week or two to get some business done before I go back north. I appreciate your hospitality.’

‘It’s no less than when Mary was with me,’ Harry replied. ‘I’ll go and see Mrs Casey and have her send over Lukas. You must have missed him a lot while you were away.’

Jack nodded, as he could not bring himself to say that he had not missed Lukas as much as he was missing George from his life. He felt guilty that his son had not figured more importantly in his thoughts.

Erika had sat silently, trying to follow the conversation while the two men consoled each other. She understood most of the words and already knew about Jack’s sister’s death. The mention of Lukas intrigued her. Karin had told her about him having a son but he did not seem to be the kind of man who would be tied down by a wife and family.

When Harry ushered Lukas inside, the reactions of father and son seemed to confirm to Erika that she was right about Jack. The little boy appeared serious and distant with the man who was his father. For Jack, being reunited with his son was wrapped in the formality of meeting a stranger. They shook hands. Harry seemed oblivious to the tension.

‘How have you been?’ Jack asked his son.

Lukas looked at Harry and then back at his father. ‘Good,’ he replied in a solemn tone.

‘That’s good,’ Jack said awkwardly. ‘You and I will be going on a wonderful trip up to a place called Townsville soon. It’s a great town that I know you will really like.’

Lukas once again looked to Harry who nodded to confirm Jack’s words.

‘This is Miss Mann,’ Jack said, turning to Erika who smiled sweetly and held out her hand.

‘You are a very nice young boy,’ she said in English. ‘You will like Townsville when you go there.’

But Lukas was not convinced. The stranger who was his father was not someone he knew. So many people seemed to come and go in his short life, and some did not come back – like his mother and Aunt Mary.

That afternoon Jack decided to retire to the local hotel, leaving Erika to rest. He had hoped to bump into one or two former soldiers. This he did, as many returned soldiers were out of work. He established a rapport with a couple of former infantrymen who had also fought on battlefronts that Jack had served. The conversation fluctuated between the rights and wrongs of the English government banning the Australian Catholic archbishop Doctor Daniel Mannix from visiting Ireland to the recent release of the members of the International Workers of the World from prison. One of Jack’s drinking partners was of Irish descent and the religious argument with his English drinking mate escalated to the point of a possible punch-up. But the perceived injustice of releasing into society those who were seen by many in the armed forces to have been out to undermine an Allied victory in the Great War united them. All was peaceful – if not fruitful – in the company.

Jack bid them goodbye at closing time and staggered home. He was not stupefied drunk but the alcohol had helped him feel better about everything that seemed to go wrong in his life.

Harry had gone to church to light a candle for Mary and Erika met Jack at the door. He beamed her a crooked smile by way of greeting and slumped into a chair in the kitchen where she poured him a beer from a bottle. His first question was as to his son’s whereabouts. Erika told him that the boy was staying next door at Mrs Casey’s house. Under the circumstances Harry had felt that Mrs Casey should look after the lad until things got settled. She had five children of her own and an extra child was no bother. Her husband had not returned from the war and she had long learned to cope without him. Jack reminded himself to give Mrs Casey some money to help out. He appreciated her unstinting kindness but also knew that a war pension did not go far in a large family.

Jack raised his glass to Erika who sat opposite him with a small glass of sweet sherry from a bottle she had found in the kitchen cupboard. ‘Here’s to winning the war and losing the peace for Jack Kelly and his mates,’ he said bitterly, and downed the contents.

Erika stared across the short distance with an enigmatic smile as she raised her own glass. ‘To a new Germany,’ she toasted and Jack stared at her. It was not a toast he had expected on Australian soil.

‘Germany is finished,’ he responded quietly. ‘The League of Nations has made sure of that.’

Erika stared back defiantly. ‘There are men and women in my country who do not believe so. I know, I have met such a man who is destined to make us a great nation again, one that the world will respect.’

‘And who is this man?’ Jack asked as he poured himself another glass of beer.

‘His name is Adolf Hitler and he holds the promise to raise my country from the ashes.’

‘Never heard of him,’ Jack snorted. ‘Not a male friend of any consequence is he?’ Jack challenged, leaning towards Erika.

He felt jealous at the mention of another man’s name so passionately uttered by the woman that he desired. Erika realised this and felt cornered. She could not afford to lose Jack Kelly yet, as she had not established her independence on this foreign soil. But she had also been aware that her distant behaviour towards him had tempered his desire for her. She knew she must do something about the situation or she risked losing his attention.

‘He is just a man I have heard speak in Munich – nothing more,’ she lied.

It seemed to appease the Australian and she relaxed. Already she knew what her next move would be.

‘I will make you something to eat,’ she offered.

Her gentle manner surprised Jack. It was as if the wall between them had come down and he muttered his thanks. Erika found some lamb chops and eggs in the icebox. She fried them in the way she had seen Australians eat their food. Jack was hungry and the food was cooked well. Erika did not eat with him but they conversed in a relaxed way, much as lovers or married couples might. Erika talked about winter in Munich and the holidays she enjoyed in the hills of Bavaria before the war, wistful and nostalgic talk that made Jack realise how homesick the young woman was.