17 May 1882, Benevolence
It was an agonisingly slow journey back up the track to the keeper’s quarters, although at least for some of the way they were sheltered from the worst of the storm. By the time they were halfway up, Laura had learned that the seaman with the broken arm was Isaac and the badly injured mate was Tom Burrows. The self-important man was Richard Jones and he didn’t like any of the others, but he particularly didn’t like Edmund Bailey.
‘What are the chances of me being able to retrieve my luggage?’ Edmund said to Laura’s father as they paused.
Leo gave him a look Laura recognised. How, he was thinking, could anyone be more interested in their luggage than the lives lost and maybe still to be saved?
Mr Jones was not so tactful. ‘Your luggage, sir?’ he interrupted in a sneering voice.
Edmund turned to him in surprise. ‘I’m sorry if I seem self-absorbed, Mr Jones, but everything I brought with me from home, from England, was in my cabin. Well … nearly everything.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fob watch. When he opened the casing water dripped out. He held it to his ear and then sighed.
‘A family heirloom?’ Mr Jones asked, unimpressed.
‘My grandfather’s,’ Edmund said stiffly.
It seemed as if the little man was deciding whether to lecture Edmund on his attitude or offer him advice. The latter won. ‘One should always be prepared.’ He patted a lump under his already bulging waistcoat. ‘I too keep my most important possessions upon my person, but wrapped securely in oil skin. A man in my position can never be too careful.’
‘And what is your position?’ Edmund sounded irritated.
‘I work for the government in a sensitive capacity. I prefer not to discuss the details with someone I don’t trust.’
Edmund was even more irritated, and Laura thought he might continue the argument, but then his mouth twitched in a half-smile as if it had occurred to him how ridiculous it was in the circumstances to worry about a watch. His dark eyes found Laura and she could see the amusement in them, mixed with resignation.
‘Of course,’ he replied in a subdued voice.
‘Have you no one to come to your aid, Mr Bailey?’ she asked him curiously. She was sure that everyone on board the Alvarez had lost something—some had lost their lives—but most would have means of support elsewhere. Was this wealthy young gentleman an adventurer, then, travelling alone through the Antipodes?
‘I’m sure my mother will send a bank draft when she hears of my plight, but until then I will have to rely on the kindness of strangers.’ Although he spoke in a positive tone, there was something else in his voice, something that made her think he was putting on a brave face.
Laura was even more curious, but she stopped herself from asking further questions. Her curiosity, according to her father, had always been a besetting sin. This was neither the place nor the time and she should curb it, for now.
They moved on a little further before stopping again, having reached the point where every step required an extra effort. Tom Burrows sagged between Leo and Edmund, and Isaac stumbled and gasped as he jarred his arm. Mrs Munro was silent, leaning more heavily on Laura, while Mr Jones struggled to keep up, clinging to the rope beside him with white-knuckled hands. At least they were getting closer to the quarters and blessed shelter.
‘Why on earth is this island called Benevolence?’ Mr Jones demanded, gasping for air.
‘It’s been benevolent to us, hasn’t it?’ Edmund reminded him. ‘We’re alive.’
Mr Jones glared at him, but before he could respond Mrs Munro spoke up, lifting her head with a wild-eyed stare towards the cove at what remained of the Alvarez.
‘He’s out there, I know it. I can’t live without him. Not after … not now.’
Laura thought of her own mother’s tragic death, and how she and her father had struggled afterwards. Mrs Munro might think she could not go on, but she would.
‘My father will go back down when we have you safe.’ Laura tried to put a level of reassurance in her voice she was far from feeling. ‘When the storm’s passed we’ll put out the boat and—’
‘Why can’t you put the boat out now?’ She cut off Laura’s words. Her hair straggled around her face, and there was a cut on her cheek that Laura had not noticed before. Blood trickled from it, diluted by the rain.
‘It’s too dangerous. We’d be dashed against the rocks.’ She did not add that it was her father’s rule that they did not risk their lives to save others when the odds were against them. Bravery was all very well, but it came at a cost, and sometimes that cost was too high to pay.
Mrs Munro clearly wanted to disagree; instead, she looked once more towards the boiling water and the sharp points of the Tiger’s Teeth. The beam of the lighthouse flashed out again, and laid a track across the sea, and Laura could see pieces of wreckage littering the surface.
Mrs Munro did not seem to notice, but Laura held her breath until the beam moved on, fearful that she might see a body floating among the broken planks and rigging.
Seal ran by them and then stared back as if to say, Come on! Laura felt like laughing and bit her lip to suppress it as she supported Mrs Munro for another couple of steps, holding on to her as they both shook with cold. Now Laura could feel the growing tug of the wind and the sharp scatter of the rain against their faces. In a few steps’ time, they would be in the thick of it, and there would be no time to rest. They would just have to battle their way forward.
‘Why is this island called Benevolence?’ It was Edmund who asked the question this time.
Leo wiped a hand across a face shiny with moisture. ‘My daughter knows the history of this island better than I do. Always has her head in a book.’ He chuckled fondly. ‘Always asking the supply-steamer’s captain to find her something or other in Hobart or Melbourne. Isn’t that so, Laura? What does he call you, lassie?’
Luckily, the captain didn’t mind the tasks she set him. A self-educated man himself, she rather thought he had made it his mission to pass on his knowledge to the lightkeeper’s daughter. He called her Cinderella, alone in her ivory castle, which made her laugh. Not that she was going to share that with the present company. Besides, Laura was far from being a Cinderella. She did not need rescuing.
‘Lass?’ Her father smiled at her despite his exhaustion. ‘Tell us the story of the island while we take a breather.’
Laura tried to still the chattering of her teeth. The story came easily to her; she had told it so many times. ‘When Tasmania was still called Van Diemen’s Land and full of convicts, there were four of them who were desperate to escape. They knew they would never be free in the colony, but perhaps if they could get to the mainland they could lose themselves there. One day, they managed to evade their guard and stole a boat and set sail. Four desperate men in a small boat, facing the horizon, dreaming of the new life they believed to be before them. It did not work out quite as they’d hoped. Their boat began to take water and …’ She paused. The story was that the boat struck the rocks just as the Alvarez had, so she thought it better to adjust it slightly, in the circumstances. ‘Before it sank, the men spotted the island and swam ashore.’
‘This was long before the lighthouse, then?’ Edmund interrupted. He was watching her face intently, as if he really could picture the scene she was describing.
‘Yes. At that time, the island was uninhabited. The four convicts managed to survive on fish and birds, as well as the fresh water streams all over the island. One of the men happened to be a shipwright. They discovered part of their leaky boat had come ashore in the cove, and he and the others began to repair it. There was plenty of debris washed up, too, from other vessels, and they used what they could. By now, the authorities had discovered their escape and the hunt was on. A passing ship spotted the smoke from their campfire on what was supposed to be a deserted island and word got back to Hobart Town.’
Mrs Munro had gone very still as Laura spoke. Now the woman asked, ‘So, they were arrested? They didn’t make their escape, after all?’
‘No, they weren’t arrested. By the time the authorities had organised themselves and set out for the island, the four men were gone. There was evidence they had been there, and to make it worse for the authorities, they had left an … an irreverent note.’
Edmund laughed, and then coughed. ‘I’ll bet they did. And did they reach the mainland?’
‘No one knows. They were never seen again. They disappeared and it became an unsolved mystery.’
‘And the name of the island, lass?’ her father prodded.
‘For ever afterwards, it was known as Benevolence Island because it had sheltered the four men. For a little while Benevolence became famous, and people speculated on the fate of those convicts. Now I think they are mostly forgotten.’
‘So, that is how Benevolence Island came to be.’ Leo gave her a nod, then tightened his grip around the mate. ‘Now, let’s get you all into the warm. Come on.’
As they made their way towards the quarters, the calm succumbed in earnest to the gusting wind, and hard pellets of rain struck like gunshot against them. Laura felt the sting on her face and ducked her head, clinging to Mrs Munro as they forged ahead. She could smell the smoke swirling from the chimney before the solid white building appeared out of the darkness. She-oaks and melaleucas in the grove behind the cottage thrashed violently about, but at least the trees afforded some shelter. Muted light shone between the cracks in the shutters covering the windows, further sheltered by a deep verandah, and then the door was opening and Miriam stood there. She must have been keeping watch. Her round, pretty face was tight with worry, and with a cry she began to usher them inside. Her blue eyes found her husband and whatever she saw there brought the shine of tears to them. ‘Leo?’
‘We must get these poor souls warm, lass,’ he said in the gentle voice he always used for his young wife. ‘Two of them are hurt. One badly. I need to get back to the light.’
‘Of course,’ she said, and immediately began to direct the bewildered group. The room was warm but stuffy, still smelling of the boiled mutton they had eaten for their midday meal. The fire in the hearth had burned low, but Laura knew that with the wind outside, any more substantial blaze would mean smoke blown down the chimney to choke them. This room was large enough to double as a cooking, eating and sitting area, yet at the moment it seemed small and cluttered. It should have been a sort of paradise for the others after what they had been through, but she could tell by their faces that they were either too shocked to think so, or else they were used to better.
‘Sit yourself down, ma’am.’ Gently, Miriam led Mrs Munro to a chair and pressed her into it. The woman was white-faced, mouth trembling, her grief a visceral thing.
‘I’ll change,’ Laura said, moving towards her room. ‘Will I fetch something dry for Mrs Munro?’
Miriam cast a glance over her. ‘I think she’s more my size.’
Leo had dragged a straw mattress from one of the bedrooms, and he and Edmund lowered the mate upon it. His head lolled and he groaned, eyelids fluttering. Leo murmured something soothing as he knelt to inspect the man’s head, and Laura could see that despite his time in the water, his hair was matted with blood on one side.
Laura hurried into her room and found a clean, dry dress to put on. She stripped off her wet trousers and stockings, and quickly changed. When she was done, Miriam already had water warming, and rolled bandages waiting, along with the various concoctions she collected to deal with cuts and bruises. Once when Leo had cut his hand badly on some of the lighthouse machinery, she closed the wound with neat stitches that left barely a scar.
Laura retrieved her jacket—Mrs Munro was now swaddled in a blanket—and hung it up. It would soon dry in the warm room, and she was sure once her father returned he would be keen to go down to the cove again. All she really wanted to do was sit before the fire with Mrs Munro and let Miriam fuss over her, too, but she knew her father needed her. He had gone to tend the light now—its needs were constant, and she had been his assistant all her life, and if she did not go with him to the cove then he would go alone. She could not allow that.
She hoped, one day, though she suspected it was a forlorn hope, to have her own lighthouse, but women were not given the opportunity to apply for such positions. It was an undisputed fact that many wives and daughters were more than capable of running a lighthouse. Were, in fact, unsung heroines in many situations, or famous ones in others—Grace Darling, for instance—and yet the authorities did not recognise their right to a wage and a title for the work they did. Until that day came, Laura would continue to be her father’s assistant.
As if he had heard her thoughts, she felt the weight of her father’s hand on her shoulder. His voice in her ear was a soft rumble. ‘Lass? We need to get back. In case there’re more poor souls to be saved.’
Laura nodded. As she turned she caught Edmund’s gaze. There was a frown between his dark brows and he heaved himself to stand, even though it was obvious he was exhausted from his fight with the elements.
‘I should come too. You will need my help, Mr Webster.’
‘You’ve done enough for now, Mr Bailey,’ her father replied evenly. ‘If we need you, we’ll be back for you.’
‘You can help me set Isaac’s arm,’ Miriam added. It did not surprise Laura that she already knew the man’s name. ‘And poor Mr Burrows will need his wet clothes taken off and made comfortable.’ She looked at Edmund with a sympathetic smile. ‘You too, I think, Mr Bailey.’
Edmund hesitated before nodding. He had taken off his boots, and Laura could not help but notice again how finely they were made. Beneath his bespoke jacket, he had a jewelled pin at his throat, which was winking in the lamp light as it held his sodden neckcloth in place. Her father had called him ‘fancy’ and indeed he was.
‘Should we stay and help first?’ she asked, as Miriam followed after them to the door.
‘I will manage,’ Miriam said. ‘I’m good at issuing orders. Almost as good as your father.’ Her face tipped up to Leo’s. ‘Be careful,’ she whispered and he drew her against him and bent to place a kiss on her curly hair. Miriam squeezed Laura’s hand. ‘You too,’ she said. A moment later the pair of them were outside, being buffeted by the storm once more.
Laura could tell that the weather had finally begun to ease, but there were still the occasional strong gusts and she knew in her heart it remained far too dangerous to venture out in either the small dinghy they called the lifeboat, or the larger former whaleboat. She followed her father down the track to the cove, and when they reached the sand, stood with him and contemplated the wild scene. More foam had been blown up the empty beach by the waves and the tumbling roar of the sea beyond their sheltered spot mingled with the moaning of the wind above. Lifting the oil lamp, Leo swung it back and forth, and they shouted until their throats ached to anyone who could still hear them. The only response was the wail of the wind and the crash of the sea on the rocks. Laura could see that the Alvarez was now nothing more than a hollow shell, being battered about while its keel was pinned on the needle-sharp rocks.
‘If there is anyone still alive, then they’re beyond crying out for help,’ Leo said. His face was ashen with fatigue.
‘Poor Albert.’ Laura’s fingers and toes were numb. She stamped her feet and blew on her gloved hands to try to keep them functioning.
Suddenly, her father stiffened and pointed. ‘There!’
Laura startled, and then ran after him along the sand. Foam blew up around her, sticking to her skirt, and she could taste it in her mouth. There was something lying at the edge of the water. A dark bundle of clothing. As they drew closer, the light of the lamp washed over the shape and she realised it was a woman. She lay facedown in the shallows, waves teasing at her long, tangled fair hair. Leo reached down and gently grasped her shoulder to roll her over.
Young, her pale, bluish-coloured skin unmarked, her lashes crusted with sand and half open over blue eyes. The ruffles of her collar were sodden and limp, and a brooch with a large orange stone held it together in place of a top button.
Leo groaned, a deep, anguished sound, and turned his back, covering his face with his hands. Shocked, Laura followed him, pulling at his arms. ‘Dad? What is it? Who is she?’
He shook his head and heaved in a breath. When he lowered his hands and his eyes met hers they were dark with pain. ‘I thought it was your mother, lass. Just for a minute there. The light hair and her sweet face. I thought it was your mother.’
Laura swallowed. No use reminding him that her mother had drowned many years ago.
Reluctantly, she crouched down beside the body, her hem trailing in the water. Close up, Laura saw that the woman was not as young as she’d first thought, certainly more than twenty. Her face appeared so calm, it seemed that at any moment she might open her eyes and start speaking. Just to be certain, Laura reached out and brushed her fingertips against the woman’s skin. It was cold. There was no doubt that she was dead.
Leo was hovering over them, a grim set to his mouth. ‘We’ll get her to somewhere safe,’ he murmured, and stooped down to lift her gently in his arms. He held her as if she was the most precious thing in the world, while water streamed from her clothing and her head lolled. He tightened his grip before he marched up the beach with her. There was a natural hollow in the cliff close to where the jetty was built, a shallow cave that gave shelter in the worst of the weather, and was rarely reached by the tide. Sometimes the little penguins that frequented the island nested there, but it was past nesting season now.
Her father lay down his burden, and began to remove his waterproof jacket. Underneath he wore a coat and he took that off, too, before pulling the waterproof jacket back on. ‘We’ll leave her here till morning,’ he said over his shoulder, as Laura came to a stop behind him. ‘Best not take her in with the others.’
‘Yes, that’s best,’ she agreed, imagining the look on Mrs Munro’s face.
Leo tucked his coat around the woman’s body, and the care with which he did it made Laura’s heart ache. He stood a moment, and then with a sigh, pulled Laura to him with one big arm. ‘Let’s go back,’ he said. ‘There’s no point in staying out here any longer.’
Together they retraced their weary way to the keeper’s quarters, too tired and dispirited to speak.