CHAPTER 1

14 july 1891, cape otway

The animals have been at sea for two months, kept in makeshift cages on the deck of the steamship SS Bancoora. The ship never ceases its swaying and rolling, and the animals can’t keep their feet. They’re wet and cold and bruised, and a sense of hopelessness hangs in the air.

There are six rhesus monkeys, a rhinoceros, two white cranes, and six exotic green parrots. There was a young elephant, but without her mother for milk she perished soon after sailing from Calcutta.

In the first few weeks, the monkeys and the birds chattered and screeched. But the birds now shiver, featherless from plucking themselves out of anxiety, and the monkeys groan with seasickness.

If Rhino tilts his head on a certain angle, he can see the monkeys through the bars of his stall. He hums from deep inside his belly to calm them, to try to reassure them all will be well.

In the darkness of night, the monkeys reach into his cage and touch his horn and stroke his hairy ears. He licks their cold, icy little hands, and huffs on them.

They may be of different species, animals he wouldn’t associate with in the wild, but out here, desperate with fear, they’ve bonded.

It’s a moonless night and Rhino can feel the weather changing. He can smell it in the air. The wind is picking up and the sea begins to chop and churn.

No one sees the wave rise above them like a mountain. The tip curls and a massive wall of water smashes down upon them. The ship bounces wildly in the water. Rhino’s ears pop and squeak. The monkeys scream and the birds screech as they’re smashed against the sides of their cages.

Rhino braces himself against the bars of his stall, and above the roaring noise of the storm he calls and moos to comfort his friends. The animals are tossed and battered around in their cages until their screams are barely a whimper.

People are running around on deck. Lanterns flash yellow and red.

Suddenly, Rhino jolts forward, smacking his head into the bars of his stall. Stars of white light dance before his eyes, his head throbs with pain and his ears ring.

The ship makes a deep mawing, scraping sound. It shudders, then Rhino hears a tearing noise that’s raw and wounded. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s the most sorrowful, awful thing he’s ever heard. It tugs at his heart. When the planks under his feet begin to move and pop and buckle, he knows they’re in grave danger.

The humans scream at each other and the wind whips away their words. Nobody knows what they’re meant to be doing and they tumble across the deck as the rain lashes down.

One of the keepers, the kindest of them all, appears dripping and shivering before Rhino. He tries to prise open the cages but his fingers slip and fumble. Rhino can see the whites of his eyes. He can smell his fear.

“Leave the animals. Save yourself!” cries a human, and he launches himself overboard.

One by one, the cages are flung open by the kindest human. Rhino tries to charge from the listing deck, but he hasn’t used his legs for months and they’re tingling and wobbly.

Rhino sees the monkeys, light as banana leaves, picked up by the wind and tossed overboard. As he staggers and lolls, fighting to keep his balance, he topples backward into the black icy sea.

Sinking into darkness, Rhino dreams of his mother. His memories of her have faded over the years, but she comes to him now. He can hear her, feel her and smell her grassy breath.

His lungs start to burn and his heart thuds like a drum. Something is calling to him, calling his name. Eventually, he starts kicking his legs, slowly and uncoordinated, then more strongly until he breaks the surface of the sea.

He gasps at the cold, fresh air, free of the stench and filth of the cage. The sea spray is blinding but he senses the monkeys are near, he can hear them splashing. They’re paddling in circles not far away. He moos to them and they swim to him. Clambering onto his nose, they scream and chatter, clutching at his face.

Rhino can’t see a thing and he tosses his head, shuffling the monkeys down his neck, where they cling onto his back.

The birds are overhead, screeching and flapping their wings, trying to stay aflight against the wind.

Despite his weakened state, Rhino is a strong swimmer. His nostrils flare; he can smell the warmth of the earth to the north. He starts to paddle and soon settles into a steady rhythm, swimming toward landfall.

After what feels like an eternity, Rhino can see the light changing from a dull gray to a peachy gold. Dawn is nearing. The wind is easing and the swell begins to calm.

The sea has become flat and glassy, as if it too is exhausted from the storm.

Rhino’s legs are cramping with weariness but he pushes onward. The monkeys have long stopped their crying and he can feel their little bodies shivering against him.

Rhino is nearly spent when one of his feet hits the sandy bottom. He paddles on until all four are touching the sand. He catches his breath and moos to wake the monkeys. He can feel them stirring and they start to chatter.

Rhino wades in through the surf and into the shallows, ploughing one weary foot in front of the other until he crashes heavily onto the beach.

The monkeys leap off Rhino. They stagger upon the sand, hopping on tippy-toes from one foot to the other. Uncertain of their surroundings, they cast darting looks, chittering and chattering. They make a decision and, grabbing one another by the hands, they scurry off into the marram grass-covered sand dunes.

Rhino sighs as he feels the warmth of the morning sun on his back. He’s remembering another time in another place, far, far away. He imagines what he’s been through is just a nightmare. He dreams of the smell of spices and of tea and cows and chickens.

His eyelids droop like heavy shutters and he falls sound asleep in the shallows.