18 May 1882, Benevolence
Laura and Edmund continued along the track, following it around the south side of the island towards the rocky escarpments of Birds Nest Island. Here the granite cliffs were even more rugged, dropping straight down to the sea, while the seabirds nesting in them screeched and wheeled. Pigface clung to the rocky soil with its fleshy leaves and pink flowers. It was almost as if the storm had never been, although the sea still rose and fell with a sizeable swell and she was not sure she would like to be out there in a small boat. The blue of the sky was intense, seemingly more so after the gloom of the past few days, and Laura shaded her eyes with her hand. As she had said to Edmund, the world had been washed clean.
Birds Nest Island lay just off shore, rising steeply from the waves, the narrow gap between it and Benevolence a cauldron of white water. There was an indent in the coast here, but it wasn’t a safe anchorage like Thankful Cove. At the moment, any craft that attempted it would be dashed to pieces, although when the weather was fair boats had been known to drop anchor for the night. It had happened a few times that Laura knew of, and probably others that she did not. Once, a fisherman had crossed the island to the keeper’s quarters and asked for food, but most of them slipped away again and vanished without a word. It seemed unlikely that anyone had taken shelter here during the storm because it was far too dangerous. If they needed a safe haven, they would have found it in Thankful Cove.
Laura and Edmund stood in awestruck silence, being buffeted by the wind and looking down into the churning cavern between the islands. There was no wreckage from the Alvarez to be seen in the turbulent waters, and if there were bodies then they were impossible to see. Birds were using the air currents to lift themselves up, up, until they were nothing but tiny white specks above. Two wallabies bounded away when they spotted Seal, before they vanished into some scrappy undergrowth. Apart from them, and the birds, there was no sign of a living creature.
‘What a solitary life this is,’ Edmund said. ‘The only way to leave this island is by boat or to swim.’
‘I’ve never considered swimming to the mainland,’ Laura said.
His eyebrows rose in that way that was becoming familiar. ‘Can you swim?’
‘Like a fish.’
He laughed softly. ‘I can imagine it.’
Once again, he was looking at her as if she was a creature completely beyond his realm, and yet there was also admiration in his gaze. Slightly nervous now, Laura kept talking.
‘I have few womanly accomplishments. I do not sew beyond mending and I do not paint or draw or play an instrument. Miriam did all of those things when she was in Hobart, before she married my father. She thinks I am a savage, although she would never say it to my face. She wants me to learn to be a lady. I think it is too late.’
‘Far too late, and it’s a good thing,’ Edmund agreed, and there was a warmth to his smile that made her feel a little giddy. ‘I always wondered what the point was of educating young ladies to be nothing but ornaments. It must be terribly tedious. My brother and I got to have all the fun while my sisters were sweating over their needlework.’
He had surprised her. Again.
‘Where were you before Benevolence?’ he went on, openly curious now.
‘In Scotland. My parents had a lighthouse posting there, but my mother died when I was fourteen. She drowned while trying to save passengers from a sinking ship in a storm. Much like the one we have just lived through. Mrs Munro might not understand why we did not go out in the lifeboat earlier and risk our lives, but my father does not take those risks. Not anymore.’
Edmund was sombre now, all laughter gone from his eyes. ‘I see that. It is not your job to risk your lives, anyway, although I am most grateful that you did.’
‘You saved two other lives as well. Mrs Munro and Tom Burrows. Without you, they both would have drowned. You said before that your family do not believe you worthy—a bad egg—but I think if they knew about the Alvarez, they would be proud.’ Miriam often accused her of being too blunt, but as the two of them stood here together, there was a sense of intimacy, of camaraderie, that gave her permission to speak her mind.
He glanced down at his feet with a wry smile, and when he looked up his eyes were watchful. ‘You have not asked me what I did that made my family send me away.’
‘No. I’m not sure it matters. You don’t seem like a bad person, Mr Bailey. You were eager to help my father when he needed it, you were kind to Noah and Miriam, and you warmed my feet.’ She bit her lip and did not respond to his sharp laugh. ‘That all points to you being a good man.’
‘Or an extremely devious one,’ he countered.
She wondered why he wanted her to think the worst of him. ‘Your parents must miss you,’ she said gently.
He shrugged almost angrily. ‘They have another son, a better son.’
‘Now you’re just being pitiable!’
That made him laugh again. ‘I am attempting to be honest, Miss Webster.’
‘Perhaps when they learn about the Alvarez they will ask you to come home.’
He shrugged as if he did not care, but she could see he was affected as he struggled to take a breath. ‘It would be pleasant to believe that, but experience tells me otherwise.’
Before she could ask more, or delve into his life in a manner Miriam would tell her was just plain rude, he changed the subject.
‘How long is your father contracted to remain on Benevolence?’
Laura let him have his way. ‘He has another three years on his contract. After that, I don’t know what he will do. I think Miriam wants to go home to Hobart, so that Noah can attend school. She misses her family, too.’
‘And you?’
Laura tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘They will ask me to live with them, I’m sure. To be honest, Mr Bailey, I don’t know what I will do. This has been my home for nine years now and I will miss it, a great deal.’
She knew it was true. She tried not to think about leaving because of the pain it gave her, but Laura was too practical to pretend it would not happen. She needed to consider her future, and Edmund was pushing her to do just that.
‘Your father said you are a great reader,’ he said. ‘That is not the same as experiencing the world firsthand.’
‘I am not a fool, Mr Bailey.’
‘Far from it,’ he said promptly. ‘I had a thought … a very silly one, no doubt. I’m not sure I should even speak it aloud, but I feel as if I should. I am a man alone, without a clear future, but with plenty of experience of the world, and you are a woman alone, without a clear future, and with little experience of the world beyond this island. It seems as if we can help each other, Laura.’
He had called her by her first name, something she rarely heard from those outside her family. Her head was spinning because what he was saying, what she thought he was suggesting … Well, what was he suggesting? She had opened her mouth to ask him when …
‘Great God,’ he blurted out.
Laura followed his startled gaze. There was a man stumbling towards them, perilously close to the edge of the cliffs. Just as they started forward, he fell to his hands and knees and for a moment remained like that, his head bowed, as if the struggle to go on was just too much. Now she was closer, she could see that his clothing was in disarray, with rips to his trousers, and his jacket was gone, while his shirtsleeves were smeared with watery trails of blood.
The man collapsed when they reached him, rolling over with an effort so that he lay on his back. He threw his arm up to cover his face with a groan, as if the sunshine hurt his eyes, and Laura saw that his fingers were torn and bloodied, the nail of one completely gone in a mess of gore.
Edmund knelt and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. The man groaned again. ‘It’s Mr Munro,’ he said in wonder.
Munro’s hair was tangled and encrusted with salt, and when he let his arm fall back onto the ground, his skin was chalky with deep dark shadows under his eyes. He tried to speak and then licked at lips that were dry and cracked.
‘Are you real?’ His voice was a hoarse croak. ‘Is it … can it be Mr Bailey?’
‘Sir, are you badly hurt?’
Mr Munro struggled to focus on his face. ‘Is that you, Bailey?’ His face lit up as he tried to sit, only to fall back with a cry, his hand pressed to his ribs. He gasped. ‘My–my wife. Is she? My wife, Bailey? Did you save her as I asked you? Please tell me that you did!’
‘I did, Mr Munro. Indeed I did.’
Tears filled the man’s eyes and spilled over, making tracks down his dirty cheeks. Laura felt the sting in her own. Munro gave a sob, his chest heaving, only to freeze and groan again with pain. Were his ribs broken or was it worse? Before Laura could ask, there was barking from nearby. Seal had returned from whatever exploration he had been on, and he sounded seriously upset.
‘Hoi there! What have you found?’
It was Rorie, stomping along the track towards them. Until now, she had not realised how late it was in the afternoon. The shadows were beginning to stretch out across the ocean, and the sun was lower on the horizon, although with still enough power to warm her skin.
‘Your father sent me to see what was keeping you,’ Rorie went on, but now his gaze was fixed on the man on the ground. ‘Is that …?’
‘It’s Mr Munro!’ Laura could not contain her excitement.
Edmund was assisting Mr Munro to sit up, while keeping Seal away. Laura moved to help, avoiding the man’s ribs.
‘Mr Munro?’ Rorie repeated, sounding shocked. ‘We thought you were drowned, sir.’ His shadow fell over them as he stood staring down.
‘I was swept off the ship,’ Mr Munro said, and stopped with a painful grimace, before he continued. ‘There was nothing before me but steep rocky cliffs, and I began to climb. God knows how I did it. A dozen times I was certain I would fall and be dashed to pieces. And yet I clung on and kept climbing, and when I reached the top I think I fainted. I’m not sure how long I have lain here in the elements before I heard your voices.’
Rorie moved, so he was no longer in silhouette, and Mr Munro seemed to see him for the first time. He startled and almost fell back, but saved himself by clutching onto Edmund and Laura. She was certain the two men recognised each other. She supposed it made sense that they would, if Rorie had once worked for Mrs Munro’s father. The strange thing was, neither of them acknowledged it.
‘We need to get you back to the quarters,’ Laura said. She gave a nod to Edmund, and they awkwardly heaved the man to his feet. He whimpered in pain.
‘I think my ribs are broken,’ he said. Together they supported Munro as he walked between them, staggering more from exhaustion than any injury to his feet and legs. Rorie did not help but watched on, a hand on Seal to keep him from joining in and knocking them all over. They made their way slowly along the track, Rorie’s eyes on them the whole time.
Instead of following their original route, they went eastwards over the middle of the island, where the track cut across the rocky, stony ground and through tufts of grass and scrub. This way was rougher but so much shorter that it seemed worth the trouble.
At one point Munro asked to stop, and stood staring at the wild scenery and sunset-streaked sea. His attention was caught by the tower of the lighthouse painted in the regulation colours—red at the top and white at the bottom. It stood tall and grand in front of them, and for a moment he seemed incapable of speech, as if he could not believe he had survived the wreck and the storm. Once he had known that his wife was living, he hadn’t asked about anyone else, so perhaps that was enough for him to take in.
‘Only a little further,’ Laura urged gently.
Seal ran before them, barking, and by the time they reached the quarters, Miriam and Leo had come outside to see what the fuss was about. Rorie loped towards them, shouting the news, and then Laura’s father was heading over. It seemed barely any time later that Mr Munro was being helped inside the cottage.
Mrs Munro was seated at the desk Mr Jones usually occupied. As soon as they entered, she looked up and gave a wordless cry. Stumbling to her feet, spilling paper and pen behind her, she flung herself at her husband. His arms went around her, weak but as desperate as she was, and they clung together.
He was whispering something in her ear and she was shuddering with deep, wrenching sobs. He spoke again, more urgently, and his wife nodded in a jerky fashion. Laura wondered what he was saying. Words of love? Gratitude? Or promises for their future. It was a moving moment, one she was sure those who watched on would never forget.
Eventually, Munro lifted his head and seemed to notice their audience. ‘Thank you,’ he croaked. ‘We will be forever grateful.’
‘You were brave,’ Leo said. ‘And lucky. A good combination, Mr Munro.’
‘Perhaps. But if there is anything I can do … anything. I am happy to pay any reward now I am reunited with my beloved wife.’
It was a generous offer, made in the midst of so much emotion. But Laura was not surprised by her father’s emphatic refusal, and Miriam’s tearful one. Except for Rorie. He was smiling and it was not a nice smile. As if he had every intention of taking up Mr Munro on his offer.