Ancell struggled towards the ridge, Noname silently keeping pace. Leaving the glow of the fire below, they climbed beneath a myriad of stars twinkling in the velvet darkness of the desert night. Ancell limped badly, spasms of pain shooting up his leg at every step. He sensed Truegard willing him on, and looking up, saw a single star, shining more brightly than any other, and hanging so low above the ridge it seemed he could reach up and touch it if he could make the summit. Sometimes it span dizzily across the sky and Noname had to wait patiently at his side while he fought to bring it back into focus and climb again.
Their progress was agonisingly slow; so slow they were still fifty yards below the ridge top when dawn revealed the rocky crag above. Soon the light would expose the hillside and open them to view. Gritting his teeth, Ancell made a final effort, and hardly knowing what he was doing, clawed over the rim. He sank to the ground; then raised his head to gaze down on the valley. A few wisps of smoke drifted from the blackened earth, and flames still flickered in the compound, which resembled the remnants of an untidy bonfire. As he looked, a heavy timber burned through and collapsed in a shower of sparks.
Crawling the width of the narrow escarpment his heart leapt. In the distance rose the protection of a dense forest, already turning green in the strengthening light. Noname nudged him and pointed. A group of figures stood at the foot of two giant eucalyptus trees, waiting for a single straggler, who often stopped to look back.
Ancell sighed with relief. ‘You see the tall figure,’ he said. ‘That’s Jandamarra, the Aborigine who is our friend. The others are my shipmates and the children imprisoned with you. Once we get into the trees you’ll be safe.’ He glanced at the boy. He felt a closeness to him he did not understand.
‘Why was it me you called?’ he asked.
‘Because if you survived that winter I thought you might help me,’ said Noname.
Ancell recalled the first desperate year of his life. He had been born late in the summer with little time to eat and store sufficient fat to see him through a winter’s hibernation, and as autumn drew in food had become harder to find. Weak and starving, he had lived only because someone had brought him milk and built him a shelter to protect him from the cold.
‘It was you who saved my life?’
Noname nodded. ‘I was in an orphanage, working in the fields, when I found you. They threw me out when they discovered I’d been stealing milk for you. I thought I’d go to sea and made for a port. Then Scarletta kidnapped me. When we landed here it was dark by the time we reached the camp and I managed to slip away, but they soon caught me. As a punishment I’ve been locked up day and night and fed only stale crusts and water. Some days there was no bread. Those were the days I thought you’d never come.’
Ancell recalled the times he had deserted the boy and bowed his head in shame.
‘I should have come sooner,’ he said. ‘You’ve suffered so long for your kindness. I can never thank you enough.’
‘You already have. You came,’ said Noname – then clutched at Ancell fearfully at the sound of galloping horses.
‘Keep low,’ ordered Ancell, and they crawled back to peer down on five riders dismounting at the camp gate.
Laughing Jack glowered at the smouldering remains of the buildings.
‘Those Aborigines will pay for this. I’ll have every one of them hunted down,’ he blazed.
‘Forget them!’ snapped Scarletta. ‘It’s Sassy we want – and the other children if those animals got them out. You said the hedgehog was here when the gunpowder went up.’
‘He was running towards the buildings when I first saw him. Then he collapsed. Maybe he’d been injured and was disorientated.’
‘Or he was looking for the other child,’ said Scarletta uneasily. Laughing Jack waved at the smoking ruins.
‘The boy’s probably under that lot – anyway they didn’t know he was here.’
‘But maybe the hedgehog did. That’s why he’s dangerous,’ Scarletta murmured.
Larren’s mind was fixed only on commanding Misty.
‘If they did escape, the Aborigines will lead them to their ship,’ he said. ‘You need to attack before they sail or you’ll lose all the children.’
Laughing Jack shrugged. ‘We’ve time in hand. No one would risk sailing into that creek in the dark.’
‘They might,’ ventured Larren, mindful of Capt. Albern’s mastery during the storm.
Laughing Jack mounted his horse. ‘In which case we leave now; whatever they do they’ll not escape me,’ he growled.
Larren recalled Jandamarra’s instruction to head for the ridge. If Ancell had been at the compound a few hours ago, alone and hurt, he would be easy prey. Presenting his dead body would earn him Laughing Jack’s respect – apart from which, he despised the hedgehog almost as much as he had hated the red squirrel. He eyed Laughing Jack, bruised by the explosion and moving painfully.
‘Maybe you should ride up that hill first in case you can see anyone,’ he suggested.
Laughing Jack glared at him. ‘I give the orders!’ he rasped.
‘It would be sensible,’ said Scarletta.
‘Then you go,’ Laughing Jack ordered Larren. ‘Go with him,’ he instructed the two men. ‘If he tries anything, shoot him.’
Larren suppressed a smile. Soon Misty would be within his grasp, but first he would have the pleasure of meeting Ancell for the last time.
Ancell breathed a sigh of relief as the riders set off into the desert. Then cold fear clutched at his heart as three peeled off to head towards the ridge. Larren was sitting astride the leading horse. He wanted to curl up and rest, but there was no hiding place. He wanted to run, but his leg made it impossible. He would have to face the grey squirrel. He led Noname back to within sight of the forest and took him by the shoulders.
‘You must go on alone. Head for the two tall trees. Jandamarra will guide you to safety.’
Noname clutched him tightly.
Ancell pushed him away. ‘Go! Keep your eyes on the trees and hurry!’ Reluctantly Noname started down the hillside, only to stop and look back.
‘Go! I’ll follow you,’ shouted Ancell, and was relieved to see the boy scramble round an outcrop of rock and disappear from view.
He edged back to watch the riders. As the ground grew steeper the horses began to slip and he prayed they would give up and turn, but then he heard Larren call to the men to dismount and to follow him on foot. Seeking a place where Noname’s path would be at Larren’s back, he limped along the ridge to where a cliff fell sheer to a scree of broken rock far below. He felt perfectly calm now. His final task was to delay Larren long enough to give the boy a chance. He heard the laboured breathing of the climbing men – then looked into the pitiless eyes of the grey squirrel.
‘Surprise, surprise!’ mocked Larren. ‘If it isn’t the dreaming hedgehog, and all by himself! Too weak to keep up? Your honourable friends left you behind?’
‘I’m waiting for you.’
‘A big mistake, and your last.’
‘I want to know what makes a traitor.’
Larren stiffened. ‘Did you imagine I would put myself at risk for a few miserable children. Why should I care if they suffer? As for you, I despise your dreams. But you’ve served my purpose well and better still when you die.’
‘And tell me what makes a coward,’ said Ancell. ‘Even now you can’t face me without armed men at your side.’
Larren’s eyes blazed and he kicked. The ferocious blow bowled Ancell over, but even as he lay gasping, the memory of that same kick at Truegard he had witnessed in the turmoil of the storm flashed into his consciousness. He understood now the grey squirrel’s intent in the dark of that dreadful night. A raging anger welled in him as he staggered to his feet. Bent double with the searing pain at his ribs and fighting for breath, he limped towards Larren.
‘You killed Truegard! You tried in the storm, even when he was risking his life to save yours! He didn’t fall overboard – you murdered him!’
‘The trusting Truegard, the trustworthy Truegard, the dependable first mate, loved and respected by captain and crew, who could always be relied upon to do his duty,’ sneered Larren. ‘Misty could never be mine with him on board.’
A terrible roaring engulfed Ancell’s head, and in a mist of red he sprang at the grey squirrel’s throat. He bit hard, and hung on as Larren twisted and turned to throw him off, unable to claw at his spines to prise him away.
‘Kill him!’ screamed Larren to the men.
The pirates raised their muskets, but so closely were the whirling animals entwined it was impossible to aim. One fired in the air in the hope Ancell would release his grip. Suddenly there was the sound of crumbling rock. Larren screamed, and Ancell felt himself falling. Instinctively he rolled into a ball. He fell for a long time before he hit the ground. He bounced, hit the ground again, bounced again and rolled to lay still.
The men peered over the cliff at the two lifeless bodies. They looked at each other, shrugged, and gathering the horses, rode away.
Ancell slipped in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he was on board Misty, feeling her comfortable pitch and roll. Sometimes he was in a far off country, resting beneath rustling beech trees and gazing over a patchwork of hedgerows and green fields. Then he felt the sun burning and recollected pitching over the cliff. Wincing at every movement, he uncurled. The forest lay below him, closer now, but beyond the limit of his strength. He lifted his head to the cliff to see Larren lying on his back, his head at a strange angle. He dragged himself closer. He had to be certain. Larren’s body looked as fine and as powerful as ever, but the eyes stared unseeing directly into the glare of the sun. The grey squirrel was dead.
He felt no elation, only sadness at the loss of Truegard’s life. He slithered away from the corpse and took a last look at the trees protecting the children and his shipmates – the trees he would never reach. He whispered a thank you to Jandamarra, wished Misty God Speed, and drifted into sleep.
*
Jandamarra and Thom waited impatiently for Chad to catch up as the children and Merrie staggered into the forest.
‘Get a move on!’ called Thom.
Chad ignored her and again turned to stare back at the ridge. Jandamarra lost patience, and retracing his steps propelled the bosun into the trees.
‘Why did you have to go so fast? I couldn’t keep up,’ growled Chad.
‘Yes you could. You were hanging back for Ancell,’ countered Thom mildly. ‘Give him time – he’s not the fastest of animals. We’re close to Misty aren’t we,’ she said to Jandamarra.
‘She may not even have reached the creek yet,’ grumbled Chad.
‘Yes she has. Tam’s nearby,’ said Thom.
Jandamarra pointed to a clearing where a stream bubbled.
‘Not far now,’ he said. ‘You can drink and rest awhile now we’re under cover. I’ll watch for Ancell.’
Sinking gratefully to their knees, they drank deeply. Jandamarra took a few sips and positioned himself with a view of the ridge. Chantal and Max slumbered and Merrie snored. Thom and Chad stretched out on their backs, feeling the warmth of the strengthening sun filter through the canopy of leaves high above.
‘Sassy will be pleased to see Chantal and Max,’ murmured Thom.
Chad rubbed his aching legs. ‘And I’ll be pleased to see my bunk. No more walking for me – ever!’
Then they heard the distant gunshot.
‘Ancell!’ gasped Chad, jumping to his feet and running to Jandamarra. ‘Can you see anyone?’ he demanded.
Jandamarra narrowed his eyes. A distant figure was stumbling towards them, though veering from side to side and close to walking in circles.
‘There’s a boy,’ he said.
‘Can you see Ancell?’ asked Thom, joining them.
‘The boy is alone. I’ll fetch him.’
‘Ancell’s got to be with him,’ argued Chad. ‘He said he was going back for a child, so he must be. I’ll come with you.’
‘You won’t be able to keep up, and anyway Laughing Jack’s men may be following. I stand a better chance alone,’ replied Jandamarra firmly.
Thom and Chad watched the Aborigine stride towards the ridge. Thom noticed his pace was double the speed they had walked. In the shimmering glare of sand and rock he seemed to glide above the ground.
Chad fidgeted. ‘Ancell’s out there somewhere. He might be wounded. I’m going after Jandamarra,’ he said.
Jandamarra was already far distant.
‘Can you move at that speed?’ said Thom.
‘No.’
‘So we wait. The boy may be able to tell us something.’
Chad slumped against a tree. ‘That madcap of a dreamer,’ he muttered, ‘I should never have left him alone.’
The sun was high before Jandamarra lifted the child from his back and set him down beside the stream.
Chad grabbed the boy. ‘Where’s Ancell?’ he demanded. ‘Has Laughing Jack got him? Who fired that shot?’
The boy cowered and buried his head in his arms. Thom pushed Chad aside.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked gently.
‘No name,’ the boy whispered.
‘Did a hedgehog rescue you?’
The head nodded.
‘Do you know where he is?’
The exhausted boy looked up and Thom saw the fear in his eyes. His lips struggled to speak.
‘Hedgehog gone,’ he eventually managed, and began to weep. Merrie started to cry and broke away from Chantal’s comforting arm.
‘I have to leave you now,’ said Jandamarra sadly. ‘I have little time to warn my people about the burning of the camp. Laughing Jack may take his revenge on our village. The stream will lead you to your ship.’ He paused. ‘You mourn for Ancell, but always remember he died on our sacred ground and his spirit will rest in peace.’
Chantal gave him a silent hug, and Max, Thom, Merrie and Chad shook his hand. Then he was gone as quickly and quietly as he had first appeared on the beach.
Thom lifted Noname onto her shoulders and they scrambled down the hillside. Suddenly, through the leaves of the trees below, they saw the glint of water and Misty lying peacefully at anchor. Thom pointed.
‘My brother is on board. I bet he’s the first to see us,’ she said to Noname.
Noname struggled to be released and stood staring about wildly.
‘Got to find the hedgehog,’ he pleaded. Chad edged up the hill. ‘Don’t you worry! I’m going to get him,’ he called.
Thom walked towards the bosun. Chad, in turn, climbed a little higher.
‘Use your sense,’ said Thom. ‘Get aboard first. Tam and I are fitter than you – if anyone goes back it should be us. The skipper will decide what to do.’
But Chad was well aware Capt. Albern was used to making hard decisions. The odds were that Ancell was dead, and the captain had the safety of his crew, the ship, and now the children to consider. However reluctantly, he would have to put to sea.
‘Just ask the skipper to give me until nightfall,’ he shouted, and walked away.
‘We should stop him,’ urged Chantal.
But Thom knew Chad, and with an exasperated sigh, took Noname’s hand and started for the creek.