Black Pearl
By
Leonie Campbell
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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Published By
Leonie Campbell on Smashwords
Black Pearl
Copyright © 2010 by Leonie Campbell
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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BLACK PEARL is dedicated to my beautiful daughter Jessica.
Jessica, this is for you darling. Believe in yourself for dreams can come true.
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Black Pearl
Prologue
Mediterranean Sea
August 4 1918
U-271 sped silently beneath the Mediterranean Sea. Her periscope left a fluorescent trail in the moonlight. Heinrich Menzel felt the familiar slide of disappointment in his guts as his eyes searched the empty ocean for enemy shipping.
'She has to be here.' He thought. 'All the coordinates point to this position.'
Oblivious to the stench of unwashed bodies, so great was his concentration the sweat trickled down his back. He closed his eyes as a stabbing pain assaulted his temples threatening to explode into a migraine.
He re-focused his steel-blue eyes and continued to sweep the ocean. Suddenly a sharp intake of breath alerted the crew near him as the adrenalin pumped through his veins.
'I see her! She is three thousand metres dead ahead.' Heinrich snapped the periscope shut. Headache forgotten he snapped orders.' Take her to the surface. Ready torpedo tubes one and two.'
The relief in the crew was a palpable thing. Scenting the enemy the wolfpack gave chase. Hunger growled fiercely in every belly. Men ran franticly to take up their battle stations, determined to share in the glory for the Fatherland.
Heinrich loosened the latch cover and like a whale surfacing from the depths, U-271 blew a geyser of stale air and cold seawater into the night. The first hint of a new day showed pinkish on low cumulus clouds in the pre-dawn flush. Sea spray fell back over Heinrich's golden hair, soaking his white polo-neck sweater. He offered his pale face to the morning star breathing great lungfuls of salty air into his body, purging the smell of diesel fumes that seem to coat everything, even coffee.
Raising the binoculars he could make out the silhouette of a ship on the horizon exactly where he had seen her through the periscope.
For too many years the full potential of the U-boats killing power had been muzzled since the disastrous sinking of the ocean liner Lusitania, in the opening days of The Great War. For fear of waking the neutral Americans who lay like a giant sleeping bear, Kaiser Wilhelm delayed unleashing his wolf packs until early February of 1917 when England was on her knees.
Too long had Heinrich cooled his heels in the shipyards of Bremen as he waited for the order to attack. Then word came through that The Kaiser had decided to risk the wrath of the Americans. Germany threw a strangle hold around England declaring the waters around the island a war zone. Heinrich seized the opportunity and used his hunting skills to devastating effect.
Lieutenant Koenig's voice carried to where Heinrich stood. ' Tubes one and two are loaded and ready to fire, Captain.' Heinrich suppressed a smile when he heard the excitement in his lieutenant's voice.
'What do you make of her Werner?' He made space in the confined tower and waited to pass the binoculars to Werner as he came through the hatch.
Heinrich knew that every detail of the ship would be repeated to the crew in the coming months. It is these reports that would sustain them and buoy their spirits in the lean times ahead. What the crew of U-271 could not know is that they would be dead before the new dawn; their submarine lay scattered on the ocean floor.
'Her name is the Alexandria. A passenger cargo vessel, single funnel. Six thousand tons. One hundred and fifty metres long captain. I can see horses on her deck. And soldiers, many soldiers.' Reported Werner.
Heinrich took the binoculars and saw wooden crates crowding the deck of the ship. He could see the heads of many horses protruding over the sides of the crates. Enemy soldiers were exercising some of the horses between the cramped decking.
'It gives me no pleasure to see those magnificent animals destroyed but better they die here than carry a rifle on their backs to our brave men in the field.' He saw an image of his own son Otto flying over the battlefields of France with his squadron.
Heinrich felt the surge of pride swell inside him whenever he thought of his son. The day before the patrol left Bremen he watched Otto receive his golden wings in the Luftwaffe. 'May the Good Lord protect you today my son.' He whispered.
A shadow of regret passed over his eyes before he hardened them to the task and his voice became crisp as he called out the range.
'New heading one-nine-zero degrees.'
Werner repeated the changes to the navigator below who hurried away to calculate the new coordinates.
'Tubes ready?'
'Tubes are ready.' Came the conformation.
'Fire one!'
'Fire two!'
Heinrich felt a slight shudder beneath his feet as the two remaining torpedoes raced towards their target leaving a cloud of bubbles in their wake.
'Twenty seconds to impact.'
Heinrich saw the torpedos deadly path through the binoculars. Satisfied that their aim was true he lifted his eyepiece to the deck of the ship. He saw the consternation on the faces of the lookout crew of the "target", as he always referred to the enemy in this critical stage of the chase.
'Target is aware of torpedoes and is turning to port.'
Too late, the doomed ship could not escape the first harbinger of death. In rapid succession both torpedos exploded into the side of the ship sending a huge spray of seawater two hundred metres into the air. The terror of screaming horses dying in agony was carried to him on the wind.
'A hit captain! Our tonnage on this patrol will rival even that of Lothars.' Lothar von Arnauld de la Perière was Germany's best U-boat ace. In ten patrols he sank 400,000 tons of allied shipping.
'A great day for the Kaiser.' Murmured Heinrich but he was distracted by images of the dying ship; figures rushing to the sides; horses rearing and kicking at their wooden crates, people throwing themselves overboard; heads bobbing in the waves. Dark clouds enveloped the ship in death as new explosions rocked her hull.
Heinrich took one last sweep of the ocean and at the sinking vessel before dropping down the hatch. Screened by another explosion when seawater reached the sinking ship's boiler room, was a light cruiser sailing directly towards the stricken vessel. On board her decks were new mines developed specifically to destroy the wolfpack.
Stewart MacDougall stared at the red glow on the horizon. He was furious. Furious with the captain of the sinking Alexandria who had ignored the warnings of enemy subs patrolling the Mediterranean coastline and decided to risk the crossing to England alone instead of being part of a convoy. His convoy!
Instead he stood helpless as he watched the stupidity of one man's folly cost the lives of many.
Stewart saw many heads bobbing in the water. He thought of the sharks patrolling the warm currents. His first mate thought the same thing for beside him he heard first officer Edward Anderson say. 'The Johnnies won't go hungry today sir'.
'When we catch the Hun that sank her, I'll give him a breakfast he'll never forget.' Replied Stewart grimly.
They were now close enough to see individual features on the faces of the poor souls in the water. Stewart saw the heads of horse's struggle in the waves and felt pity for the doomed creatures hundreds of miles from land. He knew the animals would drown before their hooves ever touched firm ground.
'Sir! Look!' Anderson pointed to the cluster of people still clinging to the railing.
A woman left a milling group of soldiers and climbed over the railing. She hesitated for a dozen heartbeats as she gained her balance before plunging into the waters below. Stewart watched the spot where the woman fell and a few moments later saw her head appear on the crest of a wave. Relief washed over him. He didn't realise he had held his breath while waiting for the woman to emerge from the depths.
'Ready the life boats.' He snapped.
Stewart paced the deck impatiently as his crew ran to do his bidding. Frantic tapping from the radio room alerted Stewart to another crisis. He reached the doorway before the radio operator could finish decoding the message.
'What have you got for me Jones?' he asked the young radio operator.
'Sir, one of the Q-ships is twenty minutes steaming away. She will be able to assist and take on any survivors. Apparently they heard the same distress signal as us, sir. Luckily the waters here are warmer than the North Sea so the temperature in the ocean would not cause them too much discomfort.'
'Thank you for your insightful report Jones. You have missed your calling in life.' Replied Anderson sarcastically. Jones felt his cheeks redden under the scrutiny of his first officer's piercing gaze.
Stewart agonised for precious seconds. An image of the woman who jumped from the stricken ship flashed through his mind. Her thick hair fanned behind her like an umbrella, but she was too far away to make out any facial features. To stay and pick up survivors would destroy any chance of catching the U-boat.
A shrill whistle from the phone on the console cut through the tension in the bridge. Anderson snatched the receiver on the second ring.' Sir! The lookout has spotted a periscope! This is our chance to get the bastards.'
'What distance?' he snapped.
'Twelve hundred yards. The sub has just dived under sir!'
Stewart reacted instantly. 'Lower four life rafts. Those men can help pick up any survivors and wait for the Q-ship to arrive.'
'Prepare for action stations!' He bellowed then grinned mercilessly. 'Gentlemen, we have a wolf to kill.'
'Mr Anderson! Set the depth charges for forty feet. '
'Aye sir. Forty feet it is.' grinned Edward.
'New course one-seven-four degrees.'
'New course, 174 degrees.' Anderson repeated to the helmsman.
The cruiser steamed away from the crime scene in hot pursuit of the submarine. A deadly game of cat and mouse began in earnest.
Stewart paced the bridge as he waited for the moment to release the new depth charges. He felt the engines throbbing through the soles of his feet and the hairs on the back of his neck stood erect as they did at the beginning of every hunt.
'Start dropping the charges.' He ordered.
Heinrich heard the splash of the depth charges and knew death stalked his shadow.
'Dive! Dive! Dive!' He yelled. Men scrambled to their stations with fear in their eyes. Some men kissed the golden crosses worn close to their skin while others put all of their faith in their captain believing he was their lucky charm.
'Full right rudder. See if we can't shake the flea off our backs'. Heinrich gave a short cruel laugh. The bravado of their captain bolstered the men around him. Hearing him laugh they regained their courage and managed to hold their panic at bay, lest it overwhelm them.
'All engines stop.' Ordered Heinrich.
'Depth?' Heinrich asked Werner.
'We are at sixty metres Herr captain.' Werner replied.
The crew listened as the cruiser hunted them on the surface. With every deadly splash the men waited for the explosions. The seconds slowly dripped like thick treacle. When the drums came too close the men were knocked cruelly against bulkheads and many sailors prayed for salvation, closing their eyes as they clutched their crosses.
Heinrich allowed a brief cruel smile.' The stupid Englishman is setting his charges too shallow.' As if to confirm this statement another explosion rocked the submarine above their heads, causing no damage.
A ripple of laughter spread through the crew. They believed the danger had passed and they had outwitted their enemy again. The cruiser's engines became fainter and another charge detonated further from the last, making no impact on the sub.
Heinrich relaxed. 'A successful patrol gentlemen. Set new course to Bremen. We will be drinking fine German beer before the sun sets today.'
Smiles of relief broke out on every face. Cheers rang out amongst the crew as they ran to carry out the order.
Heinrich's last thoughts were of his beautiful blonde wife and son before a rogue depth charge landed on top of U-271 and blew her into nothingness.
~~~~~
In the misty pre-dawn light of early August 1918 Otto Menzel splashed some brandy into his coffee. Warming his hands on the tin mug and breathing the strong fumes he watched his mechanic put the finishing touches of his first kill on his plane.
Hans stood back to admire his handiwork then turned to the young pilot.
'First blood sir. Your father will be proud.'
'His patrol is due back in Bremen tonight. I have arranged some leave so we can celebrate our success.'
'Lucky sod. Leave some of the ladies for me.' Grinned Hans.
They both laughed to break the tension that builds before a flight.
Otto climbed into the cockpit while Hans removed the wheel chocks. The engines turned over and were purring nicely when a messenger raced over to his plane.
'Urgent telegram for you sir!' He gasped.
Irritated by the interruption to his pre-flight checks Otto snatched the flimsy paper, tearing it open. Suddenly all blood drained from his pale face. A gust of wind tore the message from his hand.
'Are you alright sir?' Enquired Hans.
'Get out of my way! Snarled Otto. He released the brakes and wrenched the controls over. Hans and the messenger threw themselves out of the path of the blades and watched the aircraft race down the runway.
'Gott man! Whatever was in that telegram sure pissed him off.' Hans saw the telegram trapped by a perimeter fence fifty metres away. Straightening the crumpled paper Hans read the contents.
'Oh shit man. U-271 has been sunk!' He groaned.
'What connection has a submarine got with this young Luftwaffe pilot?' Sneered the messenger.
'This connection you idiot!' Hans bunched his fist, hitting the man on the point of his jaw whereupon he collapsed to the ground.
'Otto's father was commander of U-271!'
Hans stormed off in a towering rage kicking the tyres of a plane in service and scattering the men who were working on it.
Tears blurred Otto's vision as he drove the plane to heights never before attempted as he tried to leave the pain of his father's death on the earth below his wings.
'Father!' Otto cried into the clouds. He felt his soul tear with the pain and thought his heart might burst.
'I swear father. I will avenge you. I will find the man who did this to you.'
* * * * *
CHAPTER 1
Ten years Later...
Roebuck Bay 1928
Stewart MacDougall stood against the railing of the mail steamer and wrinkled his nose at the odour wafting on the pre-dawn breeze. It was the smell of mangrove roots exposed at low tide with its’ gases of rotting vegetation and dust swirling on the morning air. Taking a deep breath he watched the approaching dawn turn the low clouds orange and pink as the soft light pushed the night shadows away.
Undistinguished shapes quickly firmed in the early light. He could make out outlines of numerous luggers, lying side by side along the edge of Dampier Creek. Small pockets of hot air ruffled his black wavy locks, heralding another hot and humid day in the small community of Broome. Already, the ever-present swarm of flies had begun their daily ritual of harassment.
' Some old timers say that our flies have driven men mad with their persistence.' Drawled a voice behind Stewart.
Stewart turned around and saw Jack Fleming leaning against a pile of crates dragging deeply on a cigarette. A well built man with short cropped, sandy hair. His dark tan, etched by many years under the Australian sun, contrasted well with his white cotton shirt and shorts.
' And some say, ' replied Stewart, ' that a man needs a touch of madness in his blood to survive in the world. '
' Too right sport.' Grinned Jack. He took a final drag of his cigarette then flicked the butt overboard before sauntering over to stand beside Stewart.
' I know of a place in Sheba Lane where the rooms are clean. '
' Sounds good to me. ' A cheap room too thought Stewart, anxious to save every penny of his rapidly dwindling money belt.
Jack gave Stewart a knowing wink and said, ' I also know the woman who runs it. Follow me. '
Stewart picked up his one piece of luggage and casually slung it over one shoulder, then quickly followed Jack onto the wharf.
As soon as his feet touched the wharf the sun's first rays burst above the trees. Thousands of sulphur crested cockatoos rose from the branches, weighed down under their burden of flesh. The birds flew towards the two men, flying wingtip to wingtip, a cacophony of sound understood only by another of its squawking mate.
' Ah, the dawn patrol. ' Murmured Jack.
An insistent tugging on his belt caused Jack to take his eyes from the sky and seek out the source of irritation. Standing beside Jack was a lad of not more than nine years of age. A huge grin covered the boy's face. It became impossibly wider as the boy saw recognition flare in Jack's eyes.
' Well, if it isn't young Jamie! ' Jamie beamed as Jack put a hand on the lads' head and ruffled his hair.
He turned towards Stewart and said. ' This is my nephew, Jamie Fleming. Say hello to Mister McDougall, Jamie. '
' I'm pleased to meet you sir. ' Replied Jamie politely as he offered his hand.
Stewart accepted the proffered hand with a reply on his lips when a commotion on the wharf thirty yards away caught his attention. He saw two Malay labourers stumble and the crate they were carrying crash into the side of a cart. The startled the horse reared and whinnied in fear.
Yelling obscenities, the two men tried desperately to drag their crate away from the cart's wheels before any more damage occurred.
White-faced with a touch of fear showing in his eyes the driver held tightly onto the reins, reefing the horse’s mouth savagely. This cruel treatment triggered something within the horse. Showing the whites of its eyes and throwing its head around wildly the horse pawed the wharf nervously.
Stewart ran towards the horse but slowed to a walk when he came within ten paces. Talking in a smooth voice Stewart tried to project some calmness towards the frightened animal.
' Whoa there boy, steady old fella. ' He crooned.
The horse threw its head up again still pawing the wharf's timber decking. At that moment a sudden gust of wind picked up some paper debris then hurled it at the horse's legs. Whinnying shrilly the animal took a few paces backwards. Suddenly a scream pierced the air.
Stewart clearly heard the snap of bone breaking. Looking around he saw one of the labourers crouched beside the cart with his arm trapped between wheel and crate. Strong hands reached out of the crowd and grabbed the horse's head.
' Good man. ' Called Stewart, ' Move the horse forward so we can have some room. Whoa, that's enough. '
Dragging the man aside Stewart turned him on his back so he could examine the damage closely. A piece of bone jutted out of the man's forearm. To Stewart it was a macabre reminder of the carnage he saw in the trenches a few short years ago. Grimly thrusting those thoughts aside he raised his hand inches from the man's ear and sharply struck his head, abruptly cutting the screams off.
Working quickly on the unconscious man Stewart unwound the white turban from the man's head to use as a bandage. He gestured to the other man to hold his companion's head. When he hesitated he snarled fiercely.
' Hurry up, damn you. I need to set this bone and staunch the blood flow. '
Suddenly the hairs on the back of Stewart's neck began to rise and a tingling sensation started in his lower spine. This feeling, or rather sixth sense, had saved Stewart many times before in the Great War. It was the same feeling he felt moments before deflecting a sword thrust from a Turk.
Body tense he spun around ready to spring into action and was puzzled when there was nothing behind him.
At the end of the wharf stood a large warehouse displaying the name,
L I M W O N G
I M P O R T S and E X P O R T S
P T Y L T D
Two coal black eyes looked down at Stewart from the warehouse windows watching as he finished binding the man's arm. The man glanced back along the wharf and saw the hated uniforms of the police. The man turned his head away and his black eyes bored into Lim Wong.
' Send some men to clean up that mess and silence the incompetent fool before the police become suspicious.' He hissed.
Lim Wong was about to argue with the stranger and remind him that he was in his warehouse when Lim saw the stranger's expression and quailed. I will choose a better time thought Lim.
Quickly he dispatched some men and then turned towards the stranger, silently cursing his uncle in Macau for persuading him to expand his business interests.
' If this assignment goes through as planned another will follow, only the shipment will be doubled. I will return tonight at ten to watch the transfer of goods.'
He then turned his back on Lim contemptuously only to be a fraction too late to see Stewart pocket a small white parcel.
Stewart was only just in time. Coming towards him were two policemen and a short, rather round man carrying a black medical bag. Doctor George Mitchell stopped beside Stewart and listened as Stewart relayed the events.
' Well done, man. If you ever need a job come and see me. Lord knows assistants are hard to find in this thriving metropolis.' he laughed.
' It seems to me doc that we have a regular hero on our hands. ' Grinned Jack behind Stewart with that familiar Australian twang he would come to know so well.
Jack watched as two Malay labourers picked up the injured man and carried him to Wong’s warehouse where he saw a man stare down from a high window briefly before moving away.
Ramos Cheung's thin lips whitened, compressing even thinner as he listened to the Malaysian labourer that stood quailing before him. In one quick movement, his right fist struck another blow to the injured man's shoulder, already bandaged from the accident on the wharf earlier in the day. Hearing the man's high pitched scream, a brief flash flickered in Ramos' eyes.
' You maggot-ridden monkey! Tell me where you have hidden the package.' he growled.
' I know nothing Lord. I was only carting tea I swear. ' Pleaded the Malaysian.
Another blow to his damaged shoulder was too great for the man to bear. Passing out from the pain he fell to the floor in a dead heap.
A huge man stepped from the shadows and turned his ugly head towards Ramos.
' Get rid of the parasite. ' Spat Ramos.
Years ago in a dirty back street of Macau Ramos saw a scrawny boy being systematically beaten by a gang of rival thugs. They were the same gang that had beaten Ramos some months previously. Without thinking he descended upon the gang of four taking them completely by surprise.
By necessity Ramos became skilled in the knife. He wielded it with savage revenge killing three and injuring another. One thug who managed to escape was found a week later horribly mutilated in a stinking alleyway.
As Ramos approached the boy he saw him pick up a piece of jellied meat, which he realised to his horror was the boy's tongue! Blood covered most of the boy's pallid face yet it could not disguise the ferocity in his pale, pinkish eyes.
An albino!
An albino with no tongue!
' By what name do you call yourself? ' Whispered Ramos.
The albino stared deeply into Ramos' soul. He rolled onto his side and spat a gobule of blood on the cobblestones. Then with a shaky finger he began to write in his own spittle.
T o d d a
The effort cost him deeply. Something deep inside Todda's body ripped and he collapsed in his own pool of blood.
From that ugly night Ramos and Todda were inseparable and became a ruthless force among the fierce street gangs of Macau. Todda's scrawny body filled out over the years and hard slabs of iron muscle covered his frame until he towered over six feet six inches in height.
Religiously Todda shaved and oiled his scalp until it was a smooth gloss. Around his neck hung a small jade box, rumoured to contain the preserved remains of his tongue though no man alive has dared question him about its contents.
The jade box swung weightily when Todda picked up the Malaysian's inert form.
'Has the priest returned from the mission?' Demanded Ramos.
Todda shook his great baldhead.
' Inform me when he arrives.' He ordered then pointed to the unconscious man at his feet. 'Get rid of this scum and find that package. If it is with the foreigner, bring him to me. '
A brief smile touched Todda's lips.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 2
Father Flannery squinted through the dirty windscreen at the tiny community of Leopold Mission in the early morning light. The convoys of trucks had set out from Broome yesterday morning and had been travelling throughout the night over rough corrugated roads. The constant pounding and jolting to his spine brought on a migraine that set his teeth on edge. He swivelled his head and frowned in annoyance. Sitting beside him in the dodge was Sergeant Tom Baker looking relaxed and unperturbed by the journey.
Tom Baker was by no means relaxed. Thirty years service in His Majesties Police Force and Tom still questioned the orders of his superiors. He obeyed them but that didn't mean he liked what he was about to do and the priest sitting beside him gave Tom a focus for his discontent.
'When the truck stops Father it would be best if you stay away from Father O'Rourke. I'll not have a repeat of your last encounter.'
Tom had a vivid flash of the two priests on his previous visit and grimaced. Father O'Rourke had Father Flannery by his collar and was ramming his head in the slop bucket where the daily fish were gutted and cleaned. It had taken four of his men to pull the priests apart and had ruined one of his uniforms in the process. Even Li Chu's laundry could not remove the stains.
'If there is any trouble Sergeant it will not start from me.' Flannery replied irritably as a pink flush crept up his neck at the memory.
The convoy of trucks stopped in front of the church. The red dust hung in the still morning air.
'Just see that it doesn't.' Said Tom then he jumped down from the dodge and walked to the front of the church.
The walls of Leopold church were built entirely from seashell collected from the beach that formed part of the protected bay where Leopold was situated. Over the ages small bivalves in their millions washed onto the shores and were compressed by the constant wave action until they formed a hard compact mass of shell to a depth of fifty feet and covered many miles of beach.
The missionaries and their new converts to Christianity laboriously carted each slab of shell until the church took shape amongst the red sand dunes and contorted boab trees that make up the Kimberley landscape. The walls of the church were more than four foot thick. Local craftsmen used various woods that were lovingly carved and decorated the interior with pews, tables and an assortment of furniture.
Tom found Father O'Rourke kneeling at the altar with his head bowed in prayer. The creaking of the heavy door penetrated the consciousness of the priest and he slowly pushed himself up from his kneeling position. The arthritis in his joints protested in a constant reminder of his aging body.
As he turned to meet the officer a shaft of light through the stained window lit his features. His bulbous nose caught the eyes first. He had a high deeply lined forehead and dark bushy eyebrows that came together and almost, but not quite, touched. At the edge of each brow, long white hairs curled around like the horns of a rhinoceros. The frost of age peppered his eyebrows but they did not hide the fierce penetrating eyes that glowed from underneath them. That gaze was directed at Tom as he strode to meet him in the centre of his beloved church.
'Sergeant Baker, we meet again.' Father O'Rourke did not smile for he knew the purpose of the police officer standing before him.
'Hello Father.' Tom matched the priest's expression of solemnity.
'You have come again to steal the children of my flock?'
'I don't like this anymore than you do Father. My duty is to ensure that the orders of the Commonwealth are carried out and no trouble comes of it.'
'Your duty, Sergeant, is to protect the weak and innocent from the corruption of this evil world, not steal babies from their mothers' arms.' Exploded O'Rourke.
Tom pulled out an envelope from his shirt pocket and slapped it on the priests' chest.
'I have been ordered to place these children in the custody of the Commonwealth and by God sir, I will follow my orders to the letter.'
'You march into my church and tell me you are stealing the Lord's children and now you dare to defile His name also. . What you are about to do is an abomination. Now get out!' Shouted O'Rourke.
'I am warning you priest,' flared Tom, ' don't interfere or I swear I will put you in chains and drag you back to Broome.' Tom turned on his heels and stormed out of the church.
A single high-pitched scream shattered the silence of the church when Tom opened the heavy door. The officers in the trucks had surrounded the community and herded the occupants in front of the church where a large mango tree stood in a clearing. There was fear in the women's eyes and dark anger in the men. A sullen tension pervaded the atmosphere.
'Corporal!' Shouted Tom. A young man came running and stood to rigid attention.
'Sir!' he shouted.
'Get these children onto the trucks. Treat them with care or I will have your stripes.' Tom gave the young Corporal the orders with distaste and watched as mothers tried to hold their children behind their skirts while younger mothers and children broke from the group and ran into the bush carrying their tiny bundles. A fierce growl came from the group of men as they saw their families being torn apart.
A young girl ducked at the last minute and dashed between two officers running towards the beach. Like a frightened bilby she jack knifed from side to side avoiding the efforts of the officers. Their boots made it hard work to run in the red sand. Abruptly rough hands reached out and caught her as one officer jumped from behind a paperbark tree where he had been hiding in case anyone decided to make a dash for the beach.
Though she struggled fiercely she could not escape from the grip that the officer had on her arm. Father O'Rourke charged down the steps and started cuffing the officer around the head with a bible he was carrying in his hand.
'Unhand the girl at once!' The young officer dropped the girl in surprise and backed away from the fury of the priest's attack and held up his hands to protect his battered head.
O'Rourke spun back and helped the girl to her feet. He asked gently.' Are you alright, Sarah my dear?'
Sarah looked at the priest and a brief smile touched her lips. 'Yes Father, I am unhurt. I only wish David were here. He left to go hunting yesterday afternoon.'
'I will send a runner to fetch him when these brutes leave.' Promised the priest.
'Father O'Rourke.' Shouted Tom as he walked from the last convoy, ' The girl's name is on the list. She must get on the truck with the others.'
'She cannot go. I am training her as my clerical assistant.' Protested O'Rourke.
'Take that up with the Commonwealth Father, I am only following my orders.'
'You had best heed the Sergeant's warning Father, as I am sure our beloved Bishop would not like another report of your conduct to grace his desk.' A familiar voice sneered from the direction of the leading truck.
O'Rourke spun around at the sound of that hated voice and locked eyes on his enemy. The tension crackled between the two priests as their enmity towards each other surfaced.
'You!' O'Rourke hissed. 'You would sell your soul to the very devil and take these children with you. '
'These children will receive proper care and a decent education so they can contribute to society.' Said Flannery coldly, ignoring the earlier remark.
'Their only contribution is to line your own pockets' Shouted O'Rourke as his nose flared and the veins on his face started popping a bright red in conjunction with his anger.
'By all that's holy, I demand an apology or the Bishop will hear of this.'
'The only holy things you will see are the stars in your head. ' Before the shocked audience of officers could react, Father O'Rourke bunched his fist and channelled his hatred and contempt down his arm to strike Father Flannery on the point of his jaw. It knocked the priest off his feet and he lay sprawled in the dust. Flannery lay dazed and spat out the blood and a chipped tooth. He staggered to his feet and leaned on the side of a truck for support.
' I will hound you out of the church for this.' Spat Flannery.
Tom came running from the last convoy of trucks and helped the priest to his feet. He turned to O'Rourke and said,' I warned you about trouble. I've a mind to throw the bloody book at you and let the magistrate in Broome put you in chains.'
'Do as you please Sergeant if it is the will of God.'
'This is an internal matter Sergeant. There is no need to involve your services. It would only cause embarrassment to you to arrest a man of the cloth. Our disagreement can be resolved in other ways' Flannery glared at his hated enemy, injecting as much venom as he could muster into his look before storming back to the truck.
With relief Tom agreed, as he had no desire to put O'Rourke in chains. Secretly he was delighted. In his opinion the priest gave Flannery what he deserved. His sour disposition did not win many friends in the close knit community of Broome.
'Don't worry Father, I will look after the babies and see that they come to no harm. Please let David know what happened.' Whispered Sarah behind O'Rourke.
'You are a brave girl Sarah. I will get you out of this mess and stop this craziness from happening again even if I have to march on parliament itself.'
As Father O'Rourke watched the convoys leave in a pale of dust, he turned to the grief stricken people left behind and his heart went out to them.
'Come inside the church. Together we will pray to our Lord for their safe return to us.'
Over the heads of his flock Father O'Rourke watched the two runners sent to find David Gecko disappear around a rocky headland.
The two young men ran all day, stopping briefly to drink from their waterbags. It wasn't until late afternoon shadows crept ahead of their sweating bodies that they caught up with the hunting party.
Exhausted by the journey the two men told what had happened between ragged breaths. One man placed his hand on David's shoulder and said, ' Flannery has taken Sarah with him, David.'
A cold shudder of dread coursed throughout his body and the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end.
~~~~~
Five years previously David was among the first in the Broome area to be forcefully removed and placed in the care of Father Flannery. There were nearly forty-five young boys and girls that made the long journey by steamer to Geraldton where they were forced to live and make their new home.
The property was set back between the ocean and main highway that led to the capital of Perth. The tiny fishing village of Dongara lay to the south. A few miles to the north were the ruins of the tiny hamlet of Greenough.
One afternoon when David was working in the stable he was summoned to Father Flannery's office. He stopped by the tap outside the kitchen door to wash his feet knowing how dirt annoyed the priest. Making sure they were dry before he entered the hallway he climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor. Taking a deep breath David knocked on the door and opened it at the command to enter.
'Come in David.'
The priest had his back turned and was looking out of the window over the property. From this height he could see above the steep dunes and the Indian Ocean beyond. David looked out and saw the fishing fleet returning for the evening to the safe harbour of Dongara.
'It has come to my attention that you wish to go to sea with our fleet' said Flannery.
'Yes Father. I was bought up with fishermen and it is my wish to learn so I can become one of them.' David held his breath and waited, knowing that the priest enjoyed toying with young minds. Only yesterday Bert Masters came from the priest's office, his face in tears. He raced passed everyone and ran into the sand dunes. By nightfall the weather turned to drizzle and the lad was still missing. A search of the area found him huddled underneath some salt bush scrub, shivering and in shock.
Flannery turned to David and appraised the boy. He noticed the muscles developing on the lad's arms and shoulders. His legs tapered down to large splayed feet. He noticed the boy had cleaned his feet before entering his office. He looked into the boys' eyes and asked.
'How old are you David?'
'Just gone sixteen Father'
'Sixteen you say. Well it is high time for you to make it in the world. I have spoken to Captain Findlay and he has agreed to take you on as a junior deck hand. The lobster season is approaching and he needs an extra hand. Meet me after dinner in the stables with your gear and I will take you into Dongara myself as I have business to attend in the town.'
David could not believe his ears. The joy bubbled inside him and he struggled to keep the smile from breaking out on his face.
'Yes sir, thank you sir, you won't regret this' Stammered David as he backed away, eager to be gone to tell of his wonderful news to his mates.
'Don't forget David, be at the stables by eight tonight or I leave without you.' Flannery turned his back on David and looked out of the window again, dismissing him.
David ran down the stairs two at a time and raced into the kitchen where there was always somebody around. David almost collided into Father Sebastian who was heavily burdened by a load of wood.
'Have a care lad' said the surprised priest.
'Sorry Father. Let me take some of these from you.' David helped the priest and was rewarded with a grateful smile.
'Father Flannery is taking me to the fishing village tonight. I'm to become a fisherman at last.' Said David, the excitement shining in his eyes again.
'That's wonderful news David.'
'I have just prepared a broth for Bert. Maybe you could take it to him and wish him well. The lad is going to miss you.'
'No worries Father, I'd be glad to help. How is he doing?'
'Apart from a bad cold from being out in the weather, the lad will recover'
Father Sebastian handed David a tray with the broth and a fresh bread roll. 'Take it up to the lad before it becomes cold, then afterwards I will still need a hand with more wood.'
'I will have the wood stacked before the bell goes for dinner.' He promised.
David opened the dormitory door and walked down the corridor between the beds. There were four beds on either side and Bert's was at the window furthermost from the door. Bert had gathered his bedding and his pillow into a ball and lay huddled against the wall. A deep racking cough came from his small frame. When David set the tray on the table beside the bed he noticed tears streaming from his eyes.
'Don't be a baby Bert, you only have a cold.' Said David. He reached into his trouser pocket and bought out a hard candy nearly as big as a golf ball.
'If you quit sniffling I'll give you my last gummy stopper.'
Bert looked into his friend's eyes and tried to smile. With a last sniffling sob he swallowed his grief and tried another smile. This time it stayed on his face albeit lopsidedly.
'See Bert, that wasn't hard.'
'Is the gummy still mine to have?
'A promise is a promise. Here take it. ' David offered the lolly and a small hand came out from under the blanket and took it.
'What happened to you Bert?' Inquired David, concern for his friend showing on his face.
Bert turned his head to the wall and mumbled. ' I can't say. The devil will get me. I can't, I can't' More sobs racked the little boy's body.
David placed his hand on Bert's shoulder and gently turned him around. ' Hey! Are we mates or what? When we came to this place we said we'd stick together and never keep any secrets. Now tell me what's wrong. '
Bert looked into his friend's worried eyes. I'd better tell 'im in case he's next he thought. Bert took a deep breath to steady his nerves then blurted out.
'He got me Davie. He got me good.'
'Who did Bert? If any of the kids hurt you I'll smash their heads against the wall.'
'It wasn't none of the kids Davie.'
'Then who hurt you?' David saw Bert flick his eyes over his shoulder and instantly the fear returned.
'It was him.' Bert whispered in terror.
David turned around and saw Father Flannery standing in the doorway. He walked towards the two boys and smiled down at them before turning his attention to David.
'Father Sebastian said I would find you here David. He needs more wood for the kitchen.'
David had clean forgot about the wood. He jumped to his feet and said to the priest. 'I was just dropping off some food to Bert and to tell him my good news.'
Bert took his eyes off the priest and looked at David. 'What news?'
'Father Flannery is taking me into Dongara tonight. I'm gonna be a fisherman like we talked about.'
Bert looked from each face and tried to hide the terror building up inside him. The fear was like a black hand that reached inside the boy. Something snapped inside his head and Bert screamed' He's a devil' before collapsing in a dead faint.
David tried to lift his friend but was restrained by a hand on his shoulder.
'I will take care of the lad. Go and see to your chores.' The stern look in the priest's eyes brooked no argument
~~~~~
For the rest of that afternoon David hurried around in a state of excitement. All of his possessions fitted into a small bag that he brought with him from Broome. At the thought of his home he wondered how his family were. Did they still miss him? I wonder how Sarah is going now I am not there to protect her from the teasing. His thoughts turned to his departure and then what Bert said had nagged him all day. He began to worry. What had the priest done to Bert to make him so terrified?
David worried about Bert. After dinner he went back to say farewell and found him missing. Though he searched all over the grounds he failed to find his friend. Reluctantly he picked up his bag and headed out to the stables to wait beside the old Bentley.
David turned to the sounds of soft scratching coming from the stables when a stone landed at his feet. He peered into the darkness and saw a small hand beckon him. Quickly he glanced around the deserted courtyard then hurried over to find Bert standing in the shadows.
'What are you doing here?' he whispered in surprise.
'I'm coming with you.' Bert said determinedly.
'What? The priests will thrash me if they find out!'
'Please Davie, I gotta get outta here. You can't leave a mate behind.' The pleading in his friend's voice and some other feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on made him reach a decision.
'When I open the boot run over and my body should shield you from anyone looking.'
David strolled over to where he left his bag then casually walked to the rear of the car. He opened the boot then with a perceptible nod of his head he watched Bert crouch down and run over. Inside the boot was a travelling rug. When Bert scrambled inside he arranged the rug over his friend then placed his bag on top. He was only just in time, as voices and footsteps sounded close behind him. He turned and saw Father Sebastian and Father Flannery walk towards the car from the main entrance of the building.
David walked up to the priests and casually said, ' I'll put your bags in the boot for you Father.' He took the two bags from Father Flannery then walked back towards the car, praying that he didn't betray his nervousness.
The drive into Dongara was uneventful and David was thankful that the priest drove in silence. Flannery drove through the sleepy township heading for the wharf. He parked beside a warehouse and when he shut the motor David could hear the lapping of the waves against the pylons. Tide on its way in he thought. David quickly walked to the rear of the car and began removing the luggage. He shook Bert and felt his hand briefly squeeze his.
As he leaned into the boot to retrieve a bag he whispered to Bert.' Grab the latch when I close the boot so it doesn't shut on you then count to a hundred before getting out.'
'Ok Davie.' Muffled Bert from under the rug.
'What's taking you so long with the bags David?' Flannery's voice called irritably.
' Umm one of the handles got stuck on the tyre lever Father. I won't be long.' He lied.
'Bring them inside when you are finished and be quick about it.' Flannery disappeared through the door to the warehouse.
David whispered to Bert again.' Remember don't get out until you count to a hundred.'
David picked up the luggage and followed Flannery into the warehouse. He felt the vastness of the warehouse from the darkness before he turned towards the light coming from a room. When he entered David could see it was an office. Papers cluttered a desk and a filing cabinet stood at the rear of the room next to another door that was shut. The priest was standing next to a sink in a corner that also doubled as a tiny kitchen. Flannery was pouring hot water into two mugs. He placed heaped teaspoons of sugar in each then stirred it around before offering one to David.
'Drink this David, the coffee will warm you. We still have a little time before Captain Findlay arrives.'
David put the luggage against one corner of the room and gratefully accepted the offered cup. The coffee was strong and sweet.
'Captain Findlay has accommodation on the Abrolhos Islands and a licence to fish for lobster. You should fit in well with the crew.'
David watched Flannery sit down in a chair opposite him. Slowly the priest's figure split into four images and his voice sounded like it was coming down a long tunnel. I must be more tired than I thought.
Flannery reached his arm out and took the mug of coffee before it slipped from David's hand and he caught him by the shoulders before he collapsed. Lifting the inert form onto his shoulders Flannery crossed the room and opened a locked door beside a filing cabinet. He placed David onto a bed. It was the only piece of furniture in the room.
'I have been watching you for a long time David' said Flannery softly.
'Now it is time.' Flannery reached down and undid David's belt. In one swift movement he pulled his trousers off him and exposed his genitalia nestling among dark pubic hairs.
'Oh lovely.' He said. The priest ran his fingers around the flaccid penis then rolled his body over to expose firm round buttocks. 'Oh sweet'. Flannery whispered again. He began to remove his clothing in a hurry, his erection pulsing with its own life and seeking its fulfilment. Flannery stroked himself and whispered aloud' Not long to wait now.'
Flannery tied each of David's wrists with a soft scarf that hung on the bed. Dried bloodstains from previous victims spotted the silk and whispered of tortured souls oozed from its touch. Then he spread David's legs apart as far as they would go. Clear fluid glistened over the head of Flannery's penis. With both hands he pulled each cheek apart. He placed his erection at the base of David's anus and with one savage thrust Father Flannery raped him.
David felt his wrists being lifted and through his grogged state realised his hands were being tied. In a state of shock he felt somebody pull his bum cheeks apart and a moment later a piercing pain tore though his body. His eyes opened wide with shock and he screamed.
Bert had just closed the Bentley's boot when he froze in terror at the inhuman scream coming from the interior of the warehouse. Oh God thought Bert the bastard's got him too. He picked up a heavy piece of jarrah lying next to the warehouse door as the second scream pierced the night.
Flannery was pumping rhythmically into David's battered body and didn't hear Bert run up behind him. Bert swung the piece of jarrah over his head and it came crashing down on the priest's back. Flannery screamed with pain before another blow to the side of his head abruptly cut off his screams.
Bert pushed the priest off David who lay sobbing on the sheets, his arms still tied by the wrists. Bert pulled his cherished army knife out of his back trouser pocket and with two fierce slashes cut the bonds holding David. Bert went to the sink in the other room and soaked a cloth used to wipe any stray dishes and coffee mugs. His friend was bleeding. Wordlessly he gave him the cloth then picked his trousers up off the floor.
'Gawd, I'm sorry Davie. I shouldn't 'ave counted to a hundred. The bastard's got to you now.'
To avoid his friend's agony Bert looked over at Flannery and blanched. Blood was seeping from the wound in his head and he was afraid he had killed the priest. Fearfully Bert went closer to the monster that had destroyed his life not forty eight hours before in the same way he had buggered David.
'Gawd struth Davie, I think I've killed him for sure.' Bert knocked the priest's leg with his foot. Flannery groaned and tried to lift his hand before the pain of his injuries knocked him out again.
'Hurry Davie. The bastard's not killed and I think he saw me 'afore I decked him. We gotta get outta here.'
David had his pants on by this time. The shock of the rape had not really penetrated his mind. Dumbly he let Bert lead him out of the building and was a dozen steps from the warehouse before he spun around and raced back. David saw Flannery try to get up off the floor. He was kneeling on all fours when a fury came over him. With three strides he reached the priest and planted a vicious kick in his ribs. The priest screamed and fell sideways. David kicked the priest again and heard the satisfying snap of ribs.
David leaned close to Flannery's ear and grated. 'Know this priest. One day I will come for you and cut your heart out for the devil to eat.'
David ran out of the warehouse and caught up with Bert. They grabbed their bags and without a backward glance ran down the wharf and into the night.
Five years had gone by since that fateful night and David was thinking Bert should have killed that priest. Now the bastard has Sarah.
David looked across to his old friend. Bert threw sand over the fire with his foot. He came across and placed a hand on his shoulder.
'Its time to get the bastard.'
* * * * *
CHAPTER 3
The Imperial Hotel was a stately, two storey building that stood on the corner of Sheba Lane and May Ling Terrace. Wide verandahs surrounded the hotel and at certain intervals white wrought iron tables and chairs were placed for patron's use.
A profusion of hibiscus bushes, red blooms of poinciana trees and fragrant frangipanis formed part of the lovely tropical gardens. Interspersed beneath the foliage were agapanthus plants with their long stems supporting delicate mauve flowers that resembled a dressmaker’s pincushion. On most nights their perfume wafted gently through the rooms.
The sound of feminine laughter and childish squeals attracted the attention of the two men. Jack led the way towards an iron gate set discreetly into a brick wall covered entirely by bougainvillea.
Beyond the door four children ranging in sizes between Jack's knees and shoulders were playing a child's game of blind man's bluff with a young woman. A black blindfold covered her eyes. She had her arms outstretched trying to catch a victim who ventured too close.
When the children saw Jack he put a finger to his lip in a conspiratorial gesture motioning to them not to give him away.
Stooping into a crouch he loped across the lawn to a little girl closest to the woman. She let out a shrill giggle then ran away. The woman reacted swiftly to the sound and altered her course to intercept the girl.
Jack stepped behind the woman as she passed then rushed up behind her and grabbed her around the waist spinning her off her feet.
' Gotcha! ' He roared, laughing as the woman screamed in fright.
Stewart smiled at the scene and casually leaned his frame against the wall reluctant to interfere.
' Put me down, put me down. ' Squealed the woman as she struggled in Jack's arms. Still laughing Jack pirouetted the woman once more then lowered her to the ground. The instant her feet touched earth she whirled away tearing the blindfold off her face so she could see her captor. Jack stood grinning at her then burst into laughter as he saw the shock on her face.
Angry words were set aside as the woman laughed with him. Between gasps for breath she said, ' Oh Jack, you are such a ghastly beast. But I'm so glad you have finally come home. '
All the children ran to the couple and began chanting, ' Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha.' then collapsed in a heap beside them.
' That was fun Kathleen, ' piped the little girl. ' Can we play some more? ' Immediately there was a chorus of agreement from the other children.
' Some other time. Now scat. There is someone I would like my cousin to meet.' Smiled Jack.
Her name is Kathleen and she is Jack's cousin sang a voice in Stewart’s head. Suddenly he felt light-headed his heart racing faster. He watched as Kathleen turned her head in his direction.
Sunlight danced through her russet hair like waterspray on a rainbow. Her dense locks rippled like a living thing over her shoulders and came to rest in the hollow of her back. When Kathleen was a few paces from Stewart he was immediately drawn by the colour of her eyes. Deep emerald greens with flecks of honey near the irises.