CHAPTER 11

The next morning, Evie awakes to a shimmery pattern on her wall. The sun is pouring in through a gap in the lace curtains. She can hear the chirruping song of a blackbird and slips out of bed, leaving Claudette and Florette in tight, purring balls.

Hurrying into the kitchen, Evie bumps into Grandpa.

“Evie, the floodwaters passed their peak and have begun to recede. Mr Duffer and I are going to attempt to go into Breamlea. Would you like to come?” Evie bobs her head up and down.

“Go and get your coat then. And don’t forget your bonnet and mittens,” Grandpa calls after her as she races upstairs.

Breamlea, a small, pretty village, situated inland from the beach on Breams Creek, consists of a general store, a post office, a church, and a boarding house. The streets are winding but orderly, are lined with moonah trees, with views that peek through to the beach and the creek. There’s also a small school, which Evie used to attend.

When her parents died, Evie stopped going to school. She worried every time she went to open her mouth to say something, she’d start crying. And if she started crying, she might not ever stop. She might shatter into a million pieces. So Grandpa let her stay home and wander and walk and bird watch and collect treasure. But weeks away from school turned into months, and months turned into years. He always thought when Evie was stronger she’d want to go back. But she hadn’t and Grandpa hadn’t forced her.

The buggy ride into Breamlea is muddy but uneventful. When Evie and Grandpa arrive at the post office, Paddy Tait, the post office clerk, who also happens to be Cook’s cousin, greets them warmly.

“Mr Strahan! Evie! Good morning to you both,” says Paddy, shaking Grandpa’s hand and winking at Evie.

“Good morning to you, Paddy. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you, Mr Strahan. And how is my dear cousin?”

Evie and Grandpa glance at each other. How is Cook? Her apron still trembles whenever she sees Rhino, but with Mr Duffer’s help, she has managed to get close enough to peer at him from the stable door.

Grandpa coughs. “Cook is doing a fine job keeping us all in line.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Paddy laughs. “Now, what can I do you for?”

“I need to send a telegram to the Maritime Board in Melbourne.”

“Certainly, Mr Strahan. Come with me.”

Paddy sits Grandpa down at a table with a pencil and a piece of paper. He taps his pencil on the notepad and stares at Evie and Paddy. She knows he wants to tell them something.

“I heard a rumor in my ornithological circles last year that the Royal Melbourne Zoo had started bringing in exotic animals from around the world to bolster flagging profits. I’m almost certain Rhino belongs to them.”

Evie’s eyes widen and she stands very still.

“It so happens I know the director of the zoo. His name is Douglas Henley. We were colleagues in the Ornithological Society of Victoria. I counted him as a friend.” Grandpa waves his hand at Evie and Paddy. “This was a long time ago and I have no wish to renew my acquaintance with Henley. In fact, I’d prefer not to deal directly with the zoo.”

Evie looks at Grandpa with curious eyes. Her mind is ticking over. I know that name. Henley, where have I seen it before?

“That’s easy. Don’t sign it,” says Paddy, interrupting Evie’s thoughts.

“What do you mean, Paddy?” asks Grandpa.

“If you wish to remain anonymous, you could sign the telegram off as the Master and esquire of Lunar House, care of the Breamlea Post Office.”

A smile forms on Grandpa’s lips. “Perfect. Do I have your confidence, Paddy?”

“Watertight, I am, Mr Strahan,” says Paddy.

Grandpa bends his head and pens the words for his telegram.

 

 

 

Paddy sits down at the telegraph machine and demonstrates to Evie how it works.

“I press this key ’ere and use a tapping code to pass on letters that form words to the telegram operator in Melbourne. It’s called Morse Code.”

Evie thinks it sounds like cicadas in summer when they snap their wings together.

Grandpa appears by her side.

“The wonders of modern technology, eh, Evie? Much quicker than a letter.”

“Ah, yes, but much shorter than a letter,” says Paddy. “The key, Mr Strahan, is keeping it to the point.”

Evie and Grandpa soon discover sending and receiving messages by telegram is a slow business. After three hours and three cups of tea, they manage to piece together a full account of the shipwreck from the Maritime Board of Melbourne.

The SS Bancoora was wrecked on July 14. There was no loss of life. The captain and the crew washed up at Torquay, the next bay around from Breamlea. In its cargo of wheat, oats, and tea, there was also a menagerie of exotic animals bound for the Royal Melbourne Zoo.

“I knew it!” says Grandpa, snapping his fingers.

The Maritime Board also sent through a detailed list of the cargo aboard the SS Bancoora. As they’re reading through this list, Evie gasps in surprise.

On the list of exotic animals is a young elephant calf, a three-year-old Indian rhinoceros, six rhesus monkeys, two white cranes, and six exotic green parrots.

Grandpa looks down at Evie. “You haven’t seen any monkeys have you, Evie? Or any strange birds?”

Evie shakes her head but her finger hovers over the baby elephant. Her eyes prick with tears and her heart sinks inside of her.

“I know, dear girl. Fancy taking an elephant calf away from its mother.”

“Come on,” says Grandpa, and he steers Evie outside. They sit on the front steps of the post office, and a sliver of winter sun breaks through the clouds. Grandpa puts his arm around Evie’s shoulders and she leans into him.

“You know you can’t keep Rhino, don’t you, Evie? He’s worth a great deal of money to the Melbourne Zoo. They’ll come for him as soon as they are able.”

Evie pushes her face into Grandpa’s jacket. She can smell bran and molasses and smoke and ink. All things safe. Grandpa tut tuts and rubs the small of her back.

It dawns on Evie that not everything is lost. She now knows rhinoceroses can actually swim very well. So, why can’t elephants? If Rhino made it ashore during the shipwreck, perhaps the baby elephant did too? Maybe . . . it’s wandering around the sand dunes this very moment, lost and alone?

Evie squeezes her eyes tight.

And the monkeys and the birds – what if they made it ashore too? I have to find them! thinks Evie. I have to! She jumps up, and tugs on Grandpa’s sleeve. They have to leave, but before they can, Paddy appears with another telegram.

“Thanks for your help, Paddy,” says Grandpa, waving farewell as Evie drags on his arm, leading him toward Mr Duffer and the buggy.

Grandpa breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, we’ve done our duty, Evie. It’s up to the maritime board to do their bit now and for the zoo to come and get Rhino,” says Grandpa, with Evie beside him hopping from foot to foot as she continues to tug at his sleeve.

“Let’s go, Mr Duffer. For some reason, Evie’s keen to get home.”

Yes, hurry! thinks Evie. Her mind is racing, whirring. Where does one start to search for a baby elephant, monkeys and exotic birds?