Without recourse to any anaesthetic or painkiller, Tung had not cried out when Andrew had expertly sewn his head wound. This had impressed Andrew, but not the police officer standing over his prisoner.
‘Bloody heathens don’t feel pain like us,’ he grunted.
‘I do,’ John Wong said quietly.
‘Present company excepted, Mr Wong,’ Ogden added quickly.
‘Your man needs to rest,’ Andrew said.
‘I don’t have time to sit around here on my arse guarding him,’ Ogden protested. ‘He’s got to be charged with slaying one of his own.’
‘Leave him with us,’ John suggested. ‘I guarantee that you will not lose your man while he is in my son’s care.’
Ogden chewed his bottom lip, staring down at the prisoner who did not appear to be in any physical condition to escape from custody. ‘I know your reputation, Mr Wong,’ he finally said. ‘And I know that you are a man of his word. I will leave Billy with you while I get back to the station to do my report. When Master Andrew here thinks he is right to go, then Billy will escort the prisoner back to the lockup.’
‘Probably only a few hours,’ John said. ‘We will give him some tucker in the meantime.’
Satisfied that he would not lose his prisoner with Billy standing guard, Ogden departed the shady depot to return to his station.
Billy found a comfortable bale of cloth and settled down with the carbine across his knees to watch his prisoner. The Aboriginal tracker still had a sense that this seemingly innocuous Chinese man harboured a dark and dangerous spirit.
Andrew sat by the wounded man, satisfied with what he had done, yet wondering why the man before him would be possibly responsible for the death of a fellow countryman. Andrew was intrigued. The wounded man was strongly built although not of a large physique. His hair was cut short in the European way and when Andrew caught the prisoner’s eye he could see that an intelligence beyond the ordinary seemed to burn brightly. He calculated that Tung was in his mid-thirties and seemed to be at the peak of physical fitness. He was cleanshaven and had a handsome face. In all, Andrew mused, the man was out of place in the Chinese community of north Queensland.
‘Thank you,’ Tung said in a whisper that Andrew just caught. The words were spoken in Mandarin, which the young Australian understood. ‘You and your father are not like the policeman.’
Andrew leaned close to the man, who stared at the floor. ‘Who are you, and did you kill a man, as the policeman has said?’
‘My name is of no consequence and I did kill one of my countrymen,’ Tung replied quietly in Chinese. He slowly raised his head and could see the Aboriginal tracker watching him with dark eyes.
‘Then you must answer to a charge of murder,’ Andrew replied. ‘I am sorry that I cannot do more than tend to your wounds.’
‘It was not murder,’ Tung said. ‘I was forced to execute the man that I hunted, for the terrible crime he had committed against my country. The foolish man resisted me.’
The statement piqued Andrew’s interest. ‘What crime?’ he asked.
‘Treason,’ Tung replied. ‘He was a thief and traitor who betrayed my master, Emperor Kuang Hsu. I had no choice when I hunted down the man who had betrayed not only the Emperor but China’s future.’
‘From what I know,’ Andrew frowned, ‘China is ruled by the Empress Tzu Hsi – not any emperor.’
‘Ha, how little you know of the country of your ancestor spirits,’ Tung retorted. ‘The real ruler of China should be the Emperor. It was his aunt Tzu Hsi who usurped him and had him removed from his rightful role. She is an evil woman, far more dangerous to the Western powers than you could know. Even as I am a prisoner of the barbarians, my master is a prisoner of that evil woman, and I fear for his life.’
‘I confess that I know little of the land of my ancestors,’ Andrew said contritely. ‘Tell me about your master.’
Uncharacteristically Tung stared into Andrew’s face. It was a custom that he had learned of the barbarians. For some strange reason they considered looking directly at a person’s face to be polite and forthright. In his own culture the same gesture would be seen as antagonistic and meant to demean. ‘We have been crushed by the European powers for many years. We have had opium forced on us by the British and the drug has ruined my country. This could not be so if China did not supply its own self-interested classes of people to aid the foreigners. The ruling class of the Empress and her court – along with its evil eunuchs – conspires to keep China living in the past. This obedience to the old ways means that my country will never awake to its destiny. Then, one day, a ruler emerges who, despite his youth, learns about the West and attempts to modernise China so that it can resist barbarian occupation. But Kuang Hsu is no match for the deviousness of the court officials. He was forced to stand down and is now a prisoner.’
Andrew could see the fire burning in the man opposite him and felt the intense conviction in his words. He sensed that this man was no mere peasant from the rice paddies but someone of greater intellect. ‘Tell me who you are.’
Tung lowered his eyes. ‘If I tell you who I am will you help me escape the bonds of the barbarians, so that I may complete my mission in this country?’
‘I am an Australian,’ Andrew replied quietly. ‘I cannot be expected to break the law of my country.’
Tung glanced up at him with a hint of a smile. ‘Are you really a barbarian?’ he asked. ‘To me you appear to be one of us.’
Andrew knew exactly what the man meant. Was he really an Australian when he knew well that he always had had to fight prejudice from the Europeans around him. They might be polite to his face because his family wielded political power through wealth, but he was also aware of the hurtful comments made behind his back. It did not matter that he had been born on the soil of this ancient, arid land. His appearance – and half his name – branded him Chinese. ‘Tell me who you are and about your mission,’ Andrew said. ‘I will consider what you have told me and also consider whether I will help you.’
‘If I do this,’ Tung said, ‘will you swear on the spirits of your ancestors that you will keep your promise to consider my plea for help?’
‘I swear,’ Andrew replied, casting Billy a quick glance. Andrew had never really thought about the importance of his ancestors before because he had been raised a Christian. Now, this enigmatic man was challenging him to look inward into his true soul.
‘My name is Tung Chi and I was once a Shaolin priest. I was born in the Shantung province thirty-four years ago and came into the service of the true ruler of China two years ago. Before the Emperor was imprisoned he was able to give two men he thought he could trust a great wealth to be used in Europe and America to purchase Western technology. But instead of travelling to Europe and America they fled south to this place, with letters for the barbarian banks. Instead of travelling east and west they went south, thinking they could hide out here among others from China. Then, when all was forgotten, they would move on to spend the huge wealth they had at their disposal. They did not think that there would be people in this country who were followers of the Emperor and I was dispatched here to hunt them down, retrieve the papers and return to China. I found one of the men and after some persuasion he handed over his half of the papers. He then attempted to flee from me and I was forced to hunt him down. I returned to his campsite and concealed the papers before I was in turn hunted by the barbarian policeman and that black man over there. Sadly, I underestimated the black man and now I am unable to continue my mission to find the second traitor.’
‘Truly an interesting story and if you are telling me the truth then you do not deserve to be tried by our courts,’ Andrew said. ‘ How can you prove to me that you are telling the truth?’
‘If I told you where I concealed the documents I recovered,’ Tung said, ‘then you might believe me.’
‘Would you reveal that valuable information to a total stranger?’ Andrew queried.
‘You are not a total stranger,’ Tung said. ‘I can see into your soul and know that you are a good man. You have proved that already to me when you stepped in to protect me against the policeman. And besides, I have nothing to lose at the moment with these manacles holding me under the barrel of the black devil’s gun.’
‘If I find the evidence you say exists then I will help you escape,’ Andrew said, realising the enormous decision that he had made.
‘If you ride south of here you will come to a river,’ Tung said. ‘Follow the river west until you come to a bark shelter. It will be deserted and in a large log you will find a leather satchel inside that log.’
Andrew stood up, stretching his legs as he did. ‘I will be gone for some time,’ he said to Billy. ‘Make sure that the Chinese man is treated well.
Billy nodded and Andrew went in search of his father.
‘You are planning to do what?’ John exploded as he sat at an old, battered desk poring through shipping papers for his exports and imports from Asia. He could hardly believe what Andrew was proposing.
‘You are planning to ride out and go to the dead man’s camp to find what sounds like rubbish? And if the prisoner’s story proves to have merit, then return and assist the man to escape?’ John rubbed his forehead as if he had a bad headache. He stood and his imposing size and obvious anger would have intimidated any other man than his son.
‘Tung is not a criminal,’ Andrew said calmly. ‘He is little different to a soldier fighting for his country.’
John stared at his son in a new light. Growing up Andrew had been so stable and placid, he reflected. Medicine had always been his choice and John had never really seen any of his son’s wild, impetuous side before. Maybe he had been apart too long from Andrew, as the boy had grown up in boarding schools and then gone off to Scotland to study. It had been Naomi who had been closest to John, who at least had been able to blame his Irish ancestry for his yearning for excitement. But Andrew was more Chinese in his attitudes and looks.
‘Father?’ Andrew asked, observing John’s reflective silence.
‘You may as well go and verify the man’s story,’ John sighed. ‘At least get your facts straight before you go off half-cocked on some foolhardy mission. You have too much to lose.’
‘Thank you,’ Andrew replied with a broad grin for the adventure ahead.
True to Tung’s directions, Andrew located the deserted campsite. He dismounted and gazed around until he noticed a large log. Striding across to the fallen tree Andrew poked inside the hollow with a stick, aware as he was that such logs often harboured deadly snakes. Satisfied that the log did not conceal any snake, Andrew reached inside to retrieve a thick satchel.
He opened the leather case and pulled out a sheaf of papers.
‘God almighty!’ he swore as he perused the ornate paperwork with its impressive stamps embossed on the heavy sheets of paper. ‘A bloody fortune!’
The papers were promissory notes drawn on a British bank in Pekin and valued at almost £50,000 sterling. Never before had Andrew seen a promise of fortune and for a moment he was almost paralysed by what he held in his hands. It was clear that Tung had not lied and this was only half of what was outstanding.
Placing the papers back in the leather satchel, Andrew returned to his horse which was grazing nearby. His hands trembled when he took hold of the reins and he understood why. He was about to commit himself to a new path in life – a path that would no doubt at best put his life in peril and at worst land him in prison. Bringing dishonour on his family was not something the young man took lightly. Death was preferable to that option.
With the sun sinking over the hills surrounding the village of Cairns, Andrew returned to his father’s depot, where he reined his mount to a halt and stared at the police milling angrily before the big shed. Ogden was prominent in his rage, yelling curses upon the Aboriginal tracker, and for a moment Andrew thought that he might strike Billy with the butt of his service revolver.
Amidst the furore John stood calmly, smoking a cigar and watching the smoke curl away lazily on the still, tropical air. Ogden hardly noticed Andrew return.
‘What is going on?’ Andrew asked his father in a whisper.
‘Tung escaped about an hour ago,’ John replied with what Andrew thought was just a hint of a smile.
‘He what?’ Andrew gasped. ‘How?’
‘Well, it was like this,’ John said, turning his back on the police officer who was still berating the tracker, and two young uniformed police accompanying him. ‘I thought that your man should have some tucker and so I fed him. Just after that he seemed to have been able to release the chains on his ankles and wrists and sprang on poor old Billy, disarming him. Billy ended up in the manacles. It seems that Tung had a key and damned if I know how he got one. Now it seems that you are free of any obligation to help him escape,’ John ended quietly in Chinese out of Ogden’s hearing.
‘You helped the bloody Celestial to escape, Mr Wong,’ Ogden screamed, detaching himself from his confused men.
‘Careful, First Class Constable Ogden,’ John growled. ‘That is a serious accusation and one that I might personally bring to the attention of your superintendent who just happens to a be a good friend of mine.’
Ogden came to a halt as if hit by a brick. He was aware that the Chinese entrepreneur and his superior officer were indeed friends, linked by a love of fast horses and good whisky.
‘You don’t frighten me with your threats, Mr Wong,’ Ogden snarled. ‘I promise you that when I recapture the prisoner he will talk and tell me of your conspiracy in his escape. Manacle keys do not just turn up in the possession of Celestials.’
‘Maybe you dropped your keys,’ John shrugged.
Ogden immediately slapped his pocket and smiled grimly. ‘My keys are still in my pocket,’ he sneered. ‘And Billy did not have any keys on him.’
‘Well, you know these Chinks,’ John said, flipping away the stub of his cigar. ‘They are very cunning and resourceful. Maybe he just picked the locks with a piece of straw.’
Ogden glared at John before finally turning his back and stomping back to his men.
‘Saddle up. And Billy, get on the Celestial’s trail,’ Ogden roared as he gripped the reins of his mount. ‘Just don’t shoot the bastard out of hand,’ he continued as he swung astride his police mount. ‘He has some questions to answer before he goes to the gallows.’
Father and son stood alone in the rapidly gathering dusk in front of the big shed, watching the dust raised by the hooves of the departing horses float like gauze in the still air.
‘Time we had something to eat, and you can tell me what you have in the leather satchel,’ John said mildly.
Andrew suddenly became aware that he had been holding the satchel all the while the police had been milling about in their confusion. ‘Do you think Tung will be able to elude Ogden?’ he asked.
‘He should – if he got aboard the boat I told him about,’ John replied. ‘It’s headed south, so if he goes looking for any passengers of Chinese blood attempting to sail north Ogden will be thrown off the trail.’
Andrew had a great urge to put his arms around the big bear of a man who was his father.