Papua (19 page)

Q
uentin Arrowsmith always ate sparely at breakfast. The hard-boiled egg and fingers of toast were his limit although he had a busy day ahead of him with meetings and documents to peruse and sign at his office in the city.

Already 1921 looked to be a promising year. Consumer spending was rising and the land development side of the companies was turning a good profit. Men were returning to civilian life and government contracts were being filled. His competitors felt the established power behind the ruthless giant that was Arrowsmith enterprises and fell like nine pins.

‘We have a small problem,’ Caroline sighed as she poked at her own hard-boiled egg with a small silver spoon.

‘What problem?’ Arrowsmith grunted from behind his morning paper. He kept his eye to the troubles still being stirred by the army of unemployed former servicemen.

‘I am afraid Erika is pregnant.’

Arrowsmith stopped reading and stared belligerently at his wife. ‘She is your plaything. I expect that you can take her to someone who knows how to dispose of such problems.’

‘I have already attempted to convince the poor girl that is her only alternative but she has a dread of termination. She told me of friends who died under the most terrible of circumstances as a result of such procedures. And I fear she is already too advanced for an abortion to be attempted anyway.’

‘Well, it’s not my bastard,’ Arrowsmith growled. ‘She has been your exclusive property, despite what you may be thinking.’

‘I am not accusing you of being the father. Erika has told me that she knows beyond any doubt that the father has to be that man Jack Kelly.’

‘You do realise, of course, the scandal that her pregnancy would cause me? A woman living under my roof suddenly gets pregnant. It is obvious that our friends would think that I was the father.’

‘Well, Quentin,’ Caroline replied smugly, ‘you can see that the problem is not mine alone and that I need your help in finding a solution to
our
problem.’

Arrowsmith pondered his wife’s words. ‘We could send her away with some money to keep her quiet.’

‘I have become rather attached to my little kitten,’ Caroline said. ‘I would not like to see her in dire straits despite her stupidity. She should have known better, however.’

‘I could telegram that bastard Kelly in Papua and tell him what he has done,’ Arrowsmith muttered savagely.

Months had passed but he still smarted from the confrontation in his office when Kelly had forced his way in. Quentin Arrowsmith had never before been exposed to a threat where he actually feared for his personal safety. Such had been the rage blazing in the former soldier’s eyes that for a moment he thought the man might kill him. The memory was a cancer eating at him. Oh, how he wished he had challenged Kelly’s rage. But the man had shown him up and it had somehow become known around the companies that he had backed down to the challenge. For that he would do everything in his power to crush the man.

Arrowsmith had been fortunate in marrying a woman from a highly respected family who encouraged his ruthless desire to be the richest and most powerful man in Australia. Caroline was the only daughter in a family not unlike his own. The Arrowsmiths had a line of noble ancestors. He and Caroline had recognised in each other a dark side. In their unbridled pleasure seeking he had catered to her sexual whims.

His consideration to now telegram the administration in Papua and inform them that Mr Jack Kelly had left a poor young girl pregnant back in Australia appealed to his twisted sense of vengeance. What would the conservative administration think about one of their respected citizens then? Quentin Arrowsmith had learned in his private inquiries about Jack Kelly that he was a man respected by Sir Hubert as a man of honour. Was it honourable to leave a young girl pregnant to face the streets in a country foreign to her?

‘I would rather not have you even tell that horrible man,’ Caroline cut across his brooding thoughts of revenge. ‘Although I’m loath to see her go, I think that it would be easier to allow the girl to have her way and return to Germany. She has expressed that desire to me.’

Arrowsmith had not known of Erika’s desire to return to Germany but now considered the solution to their problem had been found. Germany was a long way from Australia and out of sight was out of mind. What happened to her there was not his problem.

‘You should have told me that first,’ he said. ‘I can arrange to buy her passage on one of our ships to Europe. It is as simple as that.’

‘We must give her enough money to tide her over during the pregnancy,’ Caroline said across the table. ‘She deserves at least that much from us and I know you can well and truly afford. Oh, and she travels first class to Europe on a passenger ship and not one of your cargo steamers.’

‘You are asking a lot, Caroline,’ Quentin said in a pained voice. ‘She is of little consequence. A young and confused girl who has got herself knocked up by a man of no significance.’

‘Don’t be so boorish,’ Caroline retorted. ‘She has been devoted to us these last few months. She deserves just a little consideration.’

‘I will make the arrangements,’ Quentin sighed as he made his first business decision of the day. ‘She will be gone from our lives this time next week.’

‘Good. And when are we next going to visit Europe?’ Caroline asked sweetly as she pushed her silver egg cup aside. ‘I would love to visit Paris sometime soon.’

‘That is another matter,’ Quentin grunted.

He had more important things on his mind than sharing space with garlic eating Frogs – he had a financial empire to run. An empire he had hoped one day to hand on to a son and heir. But that aspiration was already doomed, as he well knew. He stared at his beautiful wife and considered the cruel irony of life. All his money could not buy him an heir.

Erika was ushered to her cabin by a smartly dressed steward for her first class passage to Hamburg via the Suez Canal. Caroline had not bothered to come to the pier and bid her farewell. Instead the chauffeur had driven her to Circular Quay and promptly left her on the wharf to fend for herself.

When the steward placed her single bag by her bunk and left, the young woman finally broke down and collapsed on her bed. How had it all gone so wrong, she thought, as the sobbing racked her body? She had always wanted to return to her true home but not pregnant and possibly destitute. The money was generous but not enough to keep a woman without a husband. For a fleeting moment she thought about Jack. She had even considered trying to contact him and informing him of her circumstances. But that option was rejected once her suspicions that he had killed her beloved Wolfgang were recalled.

From the wharf Erika could hear people bidding friends and relations a bon voyage. Would there be anyone to welcome her when she finally reached Munich? And what would she do with the child of the man who had murdered her fiancé?

She dried her tears away with the back of her hand and sat up. She was returning to Munich and to the man she had replaced Wolfgang with in her life. She wondered what Adolf would be doing at this very moment. In a few weeks she would again join him in his struggles to make Germany a great nation once more.

J
ust over two years had passed in relative peace for Jack on Paul Mann’s plantation. He had adapted well to managing the operations of the copra plantation alongside Paul. The sweet white flesh of the coconut was usually in demand on the overseas markets, although it fluctuated at times. Jack now had the pleasure of Lukas in his life on a daily basis and the little boy had grown to love the man who had once been a stranger to him.

Jack and Lukas lived in a comfortable tin and timber hut not far from the main house occupied by Paul and his family. They had a commanding view of the Coral Sea through the rows of stately coconut palms. For Lukas, growing up in the tropical paradise could not have been better. He had everything a boy could want in life: a best mate in Karl, the ocean to swim in, a horse to ride and a .22 rifle to shoot pigeons for the dinner table.

Jack appreciated Karin’s maternal concern for Lukas. He was very close to her and called her Aunt Karin. She had taken to the old life in the tropics much as Paul remembered her as his young wife in the pre-war days at Finschhafen. Her days passed with a routine of tutoring the boys in their schooling – much to their dismay when the time, in their opinion, could have been better utilised fishing, swimming and hunting with the native boys from a nearby village. She had the assistance of a girl from the local village with the cooking and cleaning and an old native villager assisted with other chores around the house.

The years passed in serenity, following the Wet and Dry seasons of the monsoon climate. Karin loved the Wet because it meant that her two men would be at home sitting on the wide verandah and waiting out the torrential downpours. Paul and Jack would sit in silence, puffing on their pipes, as the deafening roar of the rain on the tin roof made any semblance of a conversation difficult. Karin would sit beside them and sew or read. It was a time of peace, a time to reflect on the fruits of friendship.

And when the heavy clouds were replaced by the gentle powder puffs in the vast blue skies, the birds of paradise with their brilliant plumage sang and the villagers at work filled the coconut groves with their lazy laughter. Karin hardly even remembered her life before their return to the paradise they had left behind in the terrible year of 1914.

Karin’s announcement in early 1923 that she was pregnant disrupted the two boys’ idyllic existence. They would sit on the beach and discuss how a girl might come into their lives and ruin everything. It was agreed that she would want to hang around them and be a pest. But it was also mooted that another boy might arrive and that would not be so bad.

Both Paul and Jack got resoundingly drunk when Karin announced the news, and Paul broke out a supply of big, thick cigars to celebrate. He and Jack sat under the stars – as they had often done before – to take in the beauty of the clear night sky with its magnificent display of twinkling lights. Like the two boys, the men had grown as close as brothers in the time they had sweated beside their Papuan plantation workers, bringing in the coconuts for processing.

It was not a big plantation, however, and its future as a commercial concern had always been dubious. Copra prices had been falling and as Paul sat at a rickety desk made from wooden crates in the corner of a packing shed he stared forlornly at the neat row of figures in his battered accounts ledger. Outgoing costs outnumbered incoming profits. He did not have the heart to tell Karin in her time of expectant joy that they were facing bankruptcy. She had never been happier in all the years he had known her. He too had finally found peace in their tropical paradise, but the meagre savings left from his family estate in Munich were decreasing as quickly as the price of copra.

Paul sighed and flipped the accounts book closed. He gazed across the dusty yard to the flat blue sea beyond. Maybe he would talk to Jack and warn him that he might be better off seeking employment elsewhere soon, but how did he break such news to a man he had grown to accept and love as family? He even suspected that Karin was a little enamoured of the Australian. He had often observed how she fussed around him when he was sick and Paul had smiled at how his wife treated Jack as she would her husband, while Jack would unconsciously respond as Paul himself did. But Paul was not jealous. He knew that Jack would never consider making any improper advances. It was not in the nature of the man.

‘Paul!’

Paul could see that Jack was flustered as he hurried across the yard from his quarters.

‘Paul you old bastard, where are you?’ Jack called as he waved a paper around his head.

‘Here, Jack,’ Paul answered from his makeshift office in a corner of the packing sheds. ‘What is the matter?’

Jack made a beeline for the desk and dropped the government paper on Paul’s ledger. Paul glanced at the official looking document and noticed that it was a copy of the
New Guinea Gazette
.

‘They found the bloody mother lode,’ Jack exploded. ‘Just west of where George and I were back in ’20.’

‘Who’s they?’ Paul asked, bemused by Jack’s indignation. It was rare to see the Australian in such an agitated state.

‘Bloody Park, Sloane, Nettleton and Dover have made lease applications up in the Morobe district to mine gold. I should have known something was up when I heard old Sharkeye Park and Jack Nettleton had disappeared up that way. If anyone, other than myself was capable of finding a big strike, it had to be Park. I would bet everything I have that they are onto something really big. We have to get up there by any means we can,’ Jack added. ‘Just drop everything and get there to peg claims before the word gets out and we end up at the end of the rush with nothing more than a bad bout of malaria and a Kuku arrow in our arses.’

Paul was surprised that Jack had so quickly included him in his plans of going to the Morobe district to peg claims. He was not a prospector and Jack knew that.

‘We have no other choice,’ Jack said as he calmed down. ‘I’m no fool, I have read about the falling prices of copra and I would not be much of a manager if I didn’t know what was going on around here. I was getting ready to hand in my resignation before you were forced to ask and go and see if Sen had any work for me. I know you have kept me on for longer than you should have and for that you have my thanks, old friend.’

Paul was stunned. He thought he had kept the truth of his dire circumstances a close secret. Even with Jack gone it was only a matter of time before he would have to cut his costs and walk off the plantation.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ he replied. ‘Just that I have always valued your friendship more than you would know.’

‘Trust me, Paul, and we will make a fortune,’ Jack said with a passion. ‘I know where the gold is and I know how to get it out before the rush starts. But we have to be there before the hordes come and take the surface pickings. After that it will be the big companies with their machinery.’

‘I am no miner,’ Paul responded. ‘You would be better off with a partner who knows what he is doing.’

‘So, you are considering my offer,’ Jack said with an edge of triumph. ‘You don’t need to be a miner for what is ahead of us. I need a mate who is good in the bush, and you proved that with your expedition to find Iris.’

‘Do you really want me along?’ Paul asked. ‘Do you think we could make some money out of such an expedition?’

‘To both questions the answer is yes. I need a mate who I know will watch my back. Besides, we are going to have to do this with a lot of haste and a little bit of rule bending.’

‘Rule bending?’ Paul asked suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The priority is to actually get in where Sharkeye Park and his mates are staking claims. We’re not going to have much time to chase permits or mining leases. What counts is getting our hands on weight before anything else. We can stake our claims through the legal channels with the administration in Rabaul once we have got the gold out.’

Paul groaned inwardly. His friend was asking him to risk legal prosecution should things go wrong. He was a German citizen and he did not think that the Australian authorities would be very sympathetic towards him. ‘How much risk is there, Jack?’ he asked with a pained expression.

‘Not a real lot,’ Jack grinned widely. ‘I doubt that any government men would be wanting to head into Kuku country in a hurry. I heard in Moresby that the district officer up that way, Cecil Levien, copped an arrow in the chest early this year when he was on a patrol out in the Morobe area not far from where George and I were camped. It’s rough country and crawling with those dangerous little bastards. But I know between us we can handle them if they get a bit pesky.’

Paul rose from his desk. ‘I will speak to Karin tonight,’ he said rubbing his forehead. ‘I will give you a decision in the morning.’

‘Every day counts,’ Jack warned. ‘We need to be getting supplies together as quickly as we can.’

Paul nodded and walked towards the house. Jack watched him go and was glad that he was not married. As a single man he could pack up and leave. For a moment he reflected guiltily on the existence of his son. But he was able to console himself that if anything were to happen to him, he knew that Karin would look after Lukas.

That evening, as Paul and Karin lay side by side under the mosquito net, Paul confessed the dire financial straits that they were in and the losses the plantation was incurring. He could sense how tense Karin was at the prospect that they may have to walk off the plantation, and the knowledge that their savings were almost gone.

‘What will we do?’ she asked tearfully. ‘I love this place.’

‘Jack has a plan,’ Paul said after taking a deep breath. ‘It is guaranteed to make a small fortune for us all.’

Immediately he had planted the seed, Karin sat up and stared at her husband in the dark.

‘What plan?’ she asked in a tone that left Paul in no doubt that he would have to be very careful how he answered. As much as Karin liked Jack, she was still a female protecting those she loved.

‘There is a gold lease that Jack has back in New Guinea,’ Paul lied. ‘He thinks that, with a bit of effort, we could make it pay. But he needs my help, and whatever supplies we can get together, to mine it.’

‘Why hasn’t Jack mentioned this before?’

‘It never came up before,’ Paul replied lamely, hoping that Karin would not cross-examine him any further. He knew he could not continue lying to her. She had a knack of knowing when he was not telling her the truth. ‘But it could be the answer to all our problems.’

In her despair Karin fell back against the sheets. ‘How long would you be gone for?’ she asked quietly.

Paul breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that his wife did not hear it. Her question implied that she had conceded to his suggestion. ‘I would say we would be gone for four to six months,’ he guessed.

‘That is a long time,’ Karin replied and hugged Paul to her. ‘I did not imagine that we would ever be apart again. The war was terrible enough but I suspect that this is also dangerous.’

‘Not really,’ Paul said holding Karin gently against his chest. ‘We will be home before Christmas and you can roast a goose for us.’

‘We don’t have any geese,’ Karin half laughed and half cried. ‘It will have to be a roast pig.’

‘Then I can tell Jack first thing in the morning that I have your blessing on our venture?’

‘You know that I trust your decisions, my husband,’ she said. ‘I just wanted you to be around when our child is born. But I also know that our child will not have a home unless you do what you must do.’

Paul stroked his wife’s hair until she fell asleep in his arms. He dreaded the thought of going back into the jungle but at the same time felt the strange lure of the gold. The very word was calling to him in irresistibly seductive tones. What was it about the yellow metal that caused men and women to risk everything to seek it? He was just learning the answer now. He knew that he would miss his family with an aching heart. But he also knew that Jack would miss his son in the same way. The lure of gold or not, this was their only chance to stave off losing what little he had left in his life. It was a desperate gamble under any circumstances. But he trusted Jack and knew that Jack trusted him. They were mates and would watch each other’s backs.

It took two days to arrange stores for the expedition: flour, tinned meat, sugar, tea, salt and coffee (at Paul’s insistence). Then there were medical supplies, ammunition for the rifles and shotguns as well as adzes, axes and a few trade goods. The final task was to find a boat to convey them around the eastern tip of Papua and into the Huon Gulf. Jack rode to Port Moresby and returned a few days later in a whaleboat powered by a small steam engine. It had once belonged to a Lutheran missionary before the war. He’d sold the horse to help pay for it.

One of the native labourers spotted the whaleboat chugging towards the shore and shouted to Karin who was watering her precious flowers beside the house. She dropped the watering can and walked down to the beach, shielding her eyes against the glare on the calm seas. She could just make out Jack. And beside him was a tall, well-built young Papuan.

‘All I could get was this,’ Jack shouted as the boat slid onto the beach below the plantation. ‘She’ll be right. It will get us to the Gulf okay.’

Karin prayed that he was right. Jack was always optimistic and cheerful in contrast to her more pessimistic and dour husband. It made for a good partnership, she grudgingly admitted to herself, as Jack bounded up the beach and kissed her lightly on the cheek.