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  ‘Weak.’

  ‘We do too. Get everyone who’s able to get up on deck. Let’s get the sails down while we still have the strength.’

  Mark was already too ill to work himself. Only Robert and Jessica were able to help Steven. Five-year-old Lee, who unlike his cousin Tommy had also come on deck, was given the helm and told to hold the boat steady. It took the three adults over an hour to get the sails down and secured.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ Steven asked Allison.

  ‘Heaven knows. Obviously some sort of fever. I’ve got no idea.’

  Mark sneezed blood into his handkerchief. ‘Can you get me some water from the galley?’ he asked Lee.

  It occurred to Steven and Jessica in the same instant. ‘The water we took on in Cape Town!’

  Mark nodded. ‘You’re right! It has to be.’

  ‘This looks like more than just the effects of contaminated water,’ cautioned Allison.

  ‘Whatever we’re dealing with, we shouldn’t drink it anymore.’

  But the fever was making them all thirsty. Their misery was compounded as they realised that if they didn’t die of the fever, they would die of thirst.

  ‘The jerrycan on the port side of the mast wasn’t filled in Cape Town,’ Steven said suddenly. ‘It’s still holding rainwater from the tropics.’

  ‘Get it down here, and rig up a sail to collect more rainwater,’ said Mark, adding apologetically, ‘I’m sorry to sit here giving orders — I’m just too weak to help.’

  For the next twelve days Archangel was at the mercy of the elements, sometimes wallowing in windless seas, sometimes driven onwards under bare poles. She was carried on an erratic course, steered by currents and fickle winds as her human cargo battled the fever that gripped them.

  Conditions below deck became intolerable. The stench was appalling, although every available hatch was open. The crew lay sweating in their bunks, sometimes calling out as they slipped in and out of delirium. The only person aboard with medical training, Allison, was unable to help herself, let alone anyone else. Those who were not constipated had chronic diarrhoea, and few could make it to the heads. What little strength they could muster was used to drag themselves up the companionway to scoop up rainwater trapped in the sail draped across the cockpit. Those able to climb the steps carried precious fluid down to those unable to leave their berths.

  Yet somehow they survived.

  ‘What do you think it was?’ Mark whispered to Allison when he finally realised they were both recovering.

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to think back to my lectures at nursing college. The only disease I can think of that fits is typhoid. But this disease seems to have progressed more rapidly than I would have expected with typhoid and, given the absence of medicine, if it was typhoid I would have expected fatalities.’

  At the end of the third week at sea, life returned to some semblance of normality. Steven took a sight and established that they were a third of the way to Brisbane. The cabin was cleaned and the contaminated water tanks were emptied and disinfected. Sails were hoisted as the crew’s strength returned. Steven assembled a system of canopies and hoses leading to tank-filling points that could be deployed whenever it rained, and the frequency of fronts sweeping rain past them encouraged Mark to continue on towards Brisbane rather than make an earlier landfall.

  Each day as they headed east, Mark spent more and more time at the radio, frantically trying to raise Jane. But although they were well on their way home, nothing had changed. Still only static greeted his efforts.

  Archangel was two days out from Brisbane. It was a beautiful night, with a moon full enough to light the sea, but not to dim the brilliance of the stars. The breeze was steady and Archangel’s sails were set to perfection. She almost sailed herself.

  Mark sat in the corner of the cockpit, his leg extended, one foot resting on the wheel. Only occasionally did he have to coax it a few centimetres one way or the other to keep the yacht on course. Allison sat snuggled into his side, staring out to sea. But despite their physical closeness, their thoughts were in different places.

  Mark was very aware of the sea and the sky. Three albatross weaved effortlessly from side to side above Archangel’s wake, hanging in the air, occasionally dipping down to the wave tops before rising again. There seemed to be more birds following the yacht on this journey than there had been a year ago. The increased numbers confirmed to him just how devastating the fishing industry had been on the albatross population before the pandemic. He wondered how long the species would have survived without the intervention of the disease.

  Gloomy thoughts began to get the better of him. He wondered whether his search for other human beings left alive was a waste of time. Even if he could accumulate sufficient people with a broad enough gene pool to ensure a viable population, would the Earth continue to support human life in the long term? Had the exploitation, the greed of mankind, already changed the climate too much?

  Then the breeze brought the soft smell of Allison towards him. No, it couldn’t be too late. Life was too precious. Mankind had to survive.

  His focus shifted to Allison. Acutely aware of her presence, both physically and spiritually, he could sense her mind was somewhere else.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ he said. His voice startled her a little, but she recovered and snuggled closer. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘What were you thinking about?’

  ‘Mother. Whether everyone at Haver is OK.’

  ‘I’m sure your mother is fine,’ Mark assured her yet again. ‘You know your family will look after her.’

  ‘Will Nigel let them? You do know that the only reason I agreed to live with him was so that he’d order his sons to find medicine for her arthritis?’

  ‘I guessed that was the reason.’

  ‘I should have thought more about her medicine before agreeing to escape with you.’

  ‘Your mother wanted you to leave. She told you to come. I heard her tell you.’

  ‘She would say that though, wouldn’t she? You know what she was like — always putting everyone else before herself.’

  Mark sensed Allison’s feelings of guilt. ‘How much medicine did your mother have stockpiled?’

  ‘Well … quite a lot.’

  ‘There you go, then.’

  ‘But you know how vindictive Nigel can be. It would be just like him to tip the tablets down the drain in front of her.’

  Mark sighed. ‘Steven and I always planned to escape if we couldn’t overthrow Nigel. One of the things I did, right at the beginning of our preparations, was to write a letter to Nigel, telling him that we would be back — and warning him not to harm any of our relatives. I handed the letter to Diana to give to him before I left.’

  Allison pulled away and sat up. ‘When are we going back?’ He could hear the excitement in her voice.

  ‘We’re not. It was just a ploy — a threat to make sure he didn’t enact any retribution on the rest of the community after we’d left.’ Allison said nothing, but he could feel her disappointment. ‘You’ll love New Zealand,’ he promised her for the umpteenth time. ‘It’s a beautiful country.’

  ‘More beautiful than Kent?’

  ‘A different kind of beauty. And a better climate where we’re going. No more frost or snow.’

  ‘In other words — no seasons! I love the changing seasons.’

  ‘You’ll love Gulf Harbour. We’ve got everything set up: a farm, vineyards, electric lighting, running water, school rooms, a library, music, games. Everything! We’ve even got a dentist’s chair.’

  ‘Well, that’s certainly something to look forward to!’

  Mark gave up. He realised that no matter how he tried, he couldn’t offer her the one thing she really wanted: her mother.

  Despite having initially been opposed to calling at Brisbane, even Steven was excited as Archangel approached the Australian coast. At first light, the tip of Moreton Island, the largest sand island in the world, loo
med into view.

  Leaving the treacherous Flinders Reef to port, Steven was relieved to find that the leading buoy and the majority of the channel markers were still in place. They picked their way carefully through the narrow channels which offered safe passage through the myriad of sand banks that guarded entry to Moreton Bay.

  ‘Where are we making for, Uncle Mark?’ Robert asked as they entered the deeper waters of the harbour. He had been studying the chart while his brother Luke helmed.

  ‘Manly Marina — it’s one of the largest marinas in the southern hemisphere. We know from our experience at Gulf Harbour that marinas are the most likely place to find diesel, and we’re practically out of fuel. It’ll be a good base, and while Steven checks over Archangel and searches for fuel I can head into Brisbane city overland with the rest of the crew and look for Great-Uncle William’s relatives.’

  ‘Like Fergus suggested, we should light a bonfire as soon as we berth, just in case there’s anyone alive in the Manly area,’ Steven said, although it sounded as if he thought the idea was a waste of time.

  Due to the light winds, it had taken most of the day to navigate up the harbour, past Mud Island and through the passage between St Helena and Green islands towards Manly. Dusk was beckoning.

  ‘What in heaven’s name has gone on here?’ murmured Mark as they approached the marina entrance. They were sailing in a dying breeze, barely making way. ‘How the hell did that get there?’ He could see a large barge lying across the marina entrance, blocking it completely. He handed the binoculars to Steven.

  ‘It looks as if it’s been blown up and sunk there on purpose,’ Steven replied as he handed back the binoculars.

  Mark turned to Luke. ‘Steer straight for the wreck — we’ll anchor at the entrance to the channel and row in by dinghy.’

  ‘We could cut through Boat Passage into the Brisbane River,’ Steven suggested as his father scanned the foreshore to the right of the marina.

  ‘No way,’ Mark said, his face beaming. ‘I can see people ashore.’

  ‘Never!’

  Mark passed back the binoculars and Robert raced below and retrieved the yacht’s other pair.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with your eyesight, is there?’ Steven exclaimed, his voice raised in disbelief.

  ‘It’s pure luck that I saw them,’ Mark confessed. ‘I noticed the sun’s reflection off something moving on the shore.’ As Archangel altered course once again and swung towards the beach, the family gathered in the cockpit and binoculars were passed among the crew.

  ‘I can count seven people,’ Fergus said. ‘Looks like there are rowboats hauled up on the beach.’

  ‘There are a couple of people near that house behind the beach, too,’ said Robert.

  ‘Shall I fire off a signal shot?’ Steven asked his father.

  ‘Better not. We don’t know how they’ll react. Let’s just sail in nice and peacefully.’ He looked anxiously at the depth sounder; although they were still a long way from the beach, the bay was very shallow. He swung Archangel around and headed away from the beach again. ‘Drop the mizzen and main,’ he called as soon as the depth of the water had increased, and willing hands set about lowering the sails. Robert and Luke, however, remained glued to the binoculars.

  Mark was annoyed. The surly Robert always needed to be prodded into action, but Luke was usually the first to step forward when anything needed to be done. He opened his mouth to scold them but then noticed Allison watching him. He decided not to say anything. There was no need to run the risk of being accused of ‘going on at them’ again.

  Wondering why the two boys were continually snatching the glasses from one another, he held the wheel with one hand and lifted his own binoculars with the other. Suddenly he realised the reason for the boys’ interest. He jammed his knee against the wheel to hold it firm and took the glasses in both hands, focusing on the group on the beach. They were much closer now and he counted them: eleven adults and half as many children, their dark skins suggesting they were Aborigines, the naked bodies of the adults telling him with certainty that they were all women.

  ‘Stand by to drop anchor — you two can do that,’ he snapped to Luke and Robert. Reluctantly, each taking one last look through the glasses, they put them down and hurried forward. The group ashore watched Archangel for a few seconds until they heard the sound of the anchor chain as it rattled in a cloud of rust from the hawsepipe. The women then immediately grabbed the children and ran off towards a group of houses on the other side of the road that ran along the beach.

  ‘Come back!’ yelled Steven. ‘We’re friends!’ But the group was too far away to hear his voice.

  Having secured the anchor chain, Robert and Luke immediately moved to the stern and began lowering the dinghy from Archangel’s davits.

  ‘Wait,’ Mark said. ‘The people ashore are obviously frightened. We don’t want them running off — it could take ages for us to find them again.’ He could sense the disappointment of everyone on deck. ‘They’ll know their way around a lot better than we will,’ he explained. ‘We’ll just sit here quietly, show we’re no threat and wait for them to come to us.’

  ‘And what if they don’t come?’ Robert challenged.

  ‘I’m sure curiosity will get the better of them.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’

  ‘If they haven’t come out in a couple of days, we’ll row in.’

  ‘A couple of days!’

  Steven had continued to scan the shoreline with his binoculars. ‘We need fresh food. There’s a small group of kangaroo further along, on that patch of grass above the beach road.’

  Mark looked at the creatures hopping around, grazing in the still of the twilight. ‘Well, it’s too late to risk going ashore now anyway. Remember what happened the last time we had a party caught out ashore in the dark.’

  ‘I’ll get supper,’ Allison said, realising an argument was brewing. ‘We can afford to make something special tonight.’

  ‘Kangaroo steaks would be nice,’ Robert said, clearly keen to rally support for a party to be allowed to go ashore.

  ‘We’re having biltong and potatoes. You and your brother can give me a hand,’ Allison said sternly. They followed her below, the scowl on Robert’s face even more pronounced than usual.

  Mark continued to scan the settlement with his binoculars. The community seemed to be well established. He picked out what appeared to be latrines at the top of the beach and saw women collecting water from a nearby well, then hurrying back into the houses.

  ‘I want a watch maintained tonight,’ Mark said, turning to Fergus and Steven. ‘We three will stand our normal watches. The rest of the crew can rest.’ Fergus looked at him enquiringly. ‘I don’t want any surprises in the middle of the night.’

  11

  Standing the eight-to-twelve watch, Steven found he had plenty of company. He had fully understood his father’s comment and maintained an eagle eye on the shore. Only Mark, intent on getting some sleep before his twelve-to-four watch, had turned in after supper. The remainder of the crew stayed on deck, talking excitedly and glancing frequently towards the shore, hoping to hear the sound of lapping oars. A fire on the beach and light emanating from two of the houses on shore confirmed that at least the residents of the beachside settlement had not run away.

  As the evening progressed, they saw figures pass in front of the fires on the beach, but no boat came out to them. Gradually the crew slipped away until only Steven and Penny remained in the cockpit. They were pleased to be alone at last, and the sound of waves lapping on the beach nearby was a welcome change from the screaming winds that had been their companion for so many days before their arrival at Brisbane. They were a little sad when, at five minutes before midnight, Mark stumbled through the hatch to relieve them.

  ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

  ‘No problems,’ Steven assured him, standing and stretching. ‘There was a bit of noise on the beach half an hour ago, but nothing s
ince. The fires are dying down. I’m guessing they’ve all moved into the houses to sleep.’

  ‘OK, have a good sleep yourselves.’

  As they left Mark moved forward and double-checked the anchor before settling down in the cockpit. He began wondering why he hadn’t seen any men on the beach. Were there any men? Were they away on a hunting trip? Who were the women? How had they survived? Could they be related to him? It didn’t seem likely — they definitely looked Aborigine.

  Obviously they hadn’t run away from their settlement. Maybe waiting a couple of days was overkill. If they had made no approach before noon, he decided, he’d lead a party ashore.

  The decision made, he settled down to enjoy the peace and quiet of the night, the gentle rocking of the boat and the glint of moonlight in the rigging. If only Allison had come up to enjoy it with him.

  Towards the end of his watch, he heard noises below. Perhaps Allison had woken up and was coming up to spend time with him after all. But it was Robert who emerged through the hatchway.

  ‘Nice night,’ Mark said as the boy climbed into the cockpit.

  ‘Are we going ashore in the morning?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. Steven and I will do a recce first. If it’s not safe we’ll sail off and land somewhere else.’

  Robert stood on the boarding platform relieving himself, peering across to the beach. He stood there for a long time before climbing back aboard and heading down below.

  ‘Keep your eyes peeled,’ Mark commanded Fergus as he handed over the watch at four o’clock in the morning. Jessica had come up with Fergus, and the couple held hands as usual. Mark felt a little jealous.

  Fergus picked up the binoculars and focused them on the shore, picking out the dim glow of embers. ‘You still expecting trouble?’

  ‘You never know — just stay alert. I don’t want the pair of you nodding off.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he stays awake,’ Jessica said as Mark climbed through the hatch.