Epilogue

‘Why didn’t you tell me Nathina was on board?’ Abbott asked Frank later that evening as the Swift ploughed the waves of the Tasman Sea, her bow figurehead undulating towards the mighty Pacific.

‘Because, mon ami, I had not the chance to tell you. Not with the bast-ards chasing us.’

‘I have something for you,’ Captain Taber told Nathina while they picked at cold roast goose with apples that Frank had prepared earlier.

‘Something? For me?’ Nathina looked at the kindly man with her large dark almond shaped eyes.

‘Aye.’ He passed her a small cloth parcel. Nathina took the gift and opened it with the haste of a child at Christmas. Her eyes widened and she felt her eyes watering with emotion.

‘Nathina’s watch!’ she cried out. She stood and hugged the captain unashamedly, something she hadn’t been capable of for a long time until this day, a day she would never forget. Nathina looked hard at the watch face. It appeared broken.

‘We will have it repaired in New Bedford,’ he vowed, and caught Abbott’s inquisitive glance.

‘It’s a long story,’ he said, ‘and we have a long voyage to tell it, no?’

Priority on board the Swift fell to rooting out Nathina’s other two rapists. As the Swift sailed the east coast of Van Diemen’s Land, with the aid of the healthy roaring forties, the two men were identified as Burl Jones and Jordan Brown; both of New Bedford. The two men were abandoned on a Bass Strait island, uncharted from what Captain Taber could see from the charts.

Then the Swift made her final call on the remote north-east tip of Van Diemen’s Land. Here Nathina’s child was cremated and its ashes thrown across the windswept land. Nathina felt at peace at last.

The four months’ passage to America went smoothly. This period also gave Captain Henry Taber time to think. Time to plan his future. He had already decided, on his return, to open a chandlery and provedore in New Bedford’s harbour side. He had had enough of the sea life and besides he had made his second fortune on this three-year voyage.

Abbott insisted on splitting the three thousand two hundred and sixty-eight guineas with Frank. A total of one thousand six hundred and thirty-four each. With his share he invested in Henry Taber’s provedore chandlery that he also managed. Abbott and Nathina moved into a weatherboard two-storey home overlooking New Bedford harbour. They had three children together, two girls, Polly and Amy and a boy who they named Frank. They never married, in the Christian sense, for their bond was far stronger than signatures on a register in a chapel.

French Frank eventually sailed on to Quebec where he settled in a small town called Ontario, east-central Canada. Here he met Antoinette Grann, a petite black-haired beauty who reminded him of Cherish. Together they opened a successful restaurant they named La Grenouille, or The Frog to English speaking diners. They had four children; three girls, Gabrielle, Hughette and Agathe, and a son who they named Abbott.

It had taken nearly seven years to free themselves of the shackles of tyranny and no one could argue they hadn’t done their time.

‘But one thing is certain,’ Abbott reassured French Frank as they parted company, ‘it has been one hell of a road to liberty my friend.’

Frank’s broad smile was infectious.

Together they had succeeded.