The Silent Frontier (25 page)

Lachlan knew that Andrew was right. His dream of fame and recognition might never be realised, but at least he was actually going to places no other European had been before.

‘Oh, by the way,’ Andrew said with a slight smile on his
face, ‘while you were up north trudging around in the bush, there has been a man looking for you. I overheard him yesterday asking at Jacob’s store. It seems that he heard that you were in these parts, and claims that you two met in New Zealand. He would very badly like to make your acquaintance again.’

Lachlan knew his friend well enough to know that he was savouring something at his expense. ‘Who?’ Lachlan asked suspiciously.

‘Not someone I would like to meet up with again, if I were you,’ Andrew shrugged.

‘Who are you talking about?’ Lachlan repeated, suspicion turning to exasperation.

‘Some bloody big Maori cannibal, who says his name is Matthew Te Paea. He is staying at the stables down the road,’ Andrew said. ‘He says you gave him his gammy leg.’

Lachlan was stunned by the news. ‘Yeah,’ Lachlan retorted with a grin. ‘And he gave me this gammy arm.’

Now it was Andrew’s turn to look surprised. ‘God almighty!’ he exclaimed, looking to the doorway of the bar. ‘He’s here!’

Lachlan turned to look over his shoulder. The doorway was almost blocked by the bulk of the man filling it. Slowly, Lachlan rose to his feet as Matthew strode towards him.

‘Hello, brother,’ Matthew said with a broad grin. ‘I finally found you.’

Lachlan hardly knew how to reply as Matthew grabbed him in a powerful hug and rubbed his nose against Lachlan’s. Andrew drew away. He had a fleeting memory of Maori greetings and they were not for the likes of him.

TWENTY-THREE

T
he meeting between Nicholas Busby and Charles Lightfoot took place in the offices of MacDonald & Busby in Sydney.

Lightfoot appeared to have aged somewhat from how Nicholas last remembered him at their meeting in New Zealand. He still had his thick hair but it was now shot with grey and his once handsome, aristocratic features showed the lines of a dissipated life. He carried a silver-topped cane and wore an expensive suit tailored in England.

‘Mr Busby,’ Lightfoot said when he was ushered into the office by a clerk, ‘it is good to make your acquaintance once again.’

Nicholas rose from behind his desk.

‘Major, a pleasure to see you again. I’m so glad you decided to take me up on my earlier offer to contact me on
your return to Australia. I trust that you’ve had a pleasant time in the homeland? Please, take a seat.’

Lightfoot sat down in a chair, crossing his legs. ‘England is always far superior to the colonies in both culture and society,’ Lightfoot replied arrogantly. ‘While I was there it appears I encountered a mutual friend, Lord Summers, at a regimental dinner in London,’ he said, glancing around the spacious, well appointed office. ‘He informed me how you had pointed him in the right direction for the investment of some of his capital.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Nicholas said, touching the end of his nose with his finger. ‘Running sheep for wool production. Lord Summers purchased quite a few acres of prime land near Goulburn. He was a friend of the family many years ago.’

‘A charming chap,’ Lightfoot said ingratiatingly. ‘We did a spot of grouse shooting on his estate in Scotland.’

‘I was never one for the blood sports,’ Nicholas commented. ‘My youth was spent in books, rather than my father’s gun cabinet. But so much for recollections of our youth in the old country. I gather that you are here to see me for financial advice.’

‘You have a way of getting down to business that I admire,’ Lightfoot said with a strained smile. ‘Yes, that is correct. I have returned to the colonies with my sister and her husband to explore business opportunities. Needless to say that after having met you in New Zealand originally and coupled with Lord Summers’ very high recommendation, I had hoped that as a fellow countryman you might be of some assistance.’

‘One must always be of assistance to a fellow countryman,’ Nicholas replied.

‘Good show, old chap,’ Lightfoot said, visibly relaxing.

‘Well, the best way to start is to consider just how much capital you have to invest,’ Nicholas said.

For a brief moment, Lightfoot appeared to be uncomfortable. ‘Not exactly my capital,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I am acting on behalf of my brother-in-law, Sir Percival Sparkes.’

‘So you are working on a commission basis in this matter?’ Nicholas asked.

‘An arrangement similar to that,’ Lightfoot replied.

‘Whatever enterprise that Percival establishes will be managed by me.’

‘You have a very trusting brother-in-law. A man who allows another to invest his money must have great faith – even if related by marriage.’

Nicholas’s edge of sarcasm made the former army officer nervous. ‘Percival has no reason not to trust my judgment,’ Lightfoot sniffed. ‘We have known each other long enough for him to have faith in any investment that I should deem worthy of putting his money into.’

‘I do not doubt your honesty, Major Lightfoot,’ Nicholas said reassuringly, rising from behind his desk to indicate that their meeting was coming to an end. ‘Family is family. I will give you the best advice that I can. Shall we meet again next week to discuss what I can come up with?’

‘Thank you, Mr Busby. Hopefully, next time we meet I may also have the pleasure of meeting with your partner, Mr MacDonald.’

‘Mr MacDonald is currently unavailable,’ Nicholas said, walking with Lightfoot to the door. ‘However, when I see him next I shall pass on your regards.’

When Lightfoot was gone from the office, Nicholas walked to the window looking down on the street. He could see the major enter a fine carriage drawn by two matched greys.

‘So, the rat has smelled the cheese,’ John said behind Nicholas.

‘You heard our conversation then?’ Nicholas asked, turning away from the window.

John nodded, taking the chair vacated by Lightfoot. ‘Do we advise a worn-out gold mine or a worthless tract of swamp land?’ he asked with a smile on his face.

‘Nothing so crude,’ Nicholas replied. ‘Whatever we do, it has to guarantee that he is totally destroyed. My plan will be absolute in its outcome. Trust me.’

A thousand miles north, Lachlan awaited a reply to his latest report. He had forwarded it by mail to his brother in Sydney and in the meantime rested in Townsville, regaining his health and spending time with Matthew Te Paea. They would go fishing together and Lachlan learned how the Maori had decided to travel to the Australian colonies to join the gold rush along the Palmer. Not having had any luck, he had sought work back on the coast at Townsville to pay his way home. He had found some work on the wharves, but the pay was just enough to cover food and accommodation.

‘You think that you would be interested in coming with me on my next trip into the forests?’ Lachlan had asked. ‘It’s dangerous work.’

‘Any worse than what we did in the Waikato?’ Matthew retorted.

‘About the same,’ Lachlan replied. ‘Except out there we are on our own.’

‘Then, brother, I will go with you.’

It was a letter that turned John’s life upside down. Postmarked from the colony of South Australia, it arrived at his office and he read the contents with growing excitement. Six months
earlier he had tracked his sister’s possible whereabouts to Adelaide. He had the means to employ a man in the colony to attempt to seek out his sister and it had paid off. John read that his sister was now married to a Mr George Meers and had two children. Meers had been employed by a bank but inquiries led John’s private investigator to learn that the young man had sold up all that he owned and headed for the Palmer River goldfields. He had foolishly taken his family with him despite the advice of friends and family, the report concluded.

John placed the letter on the desk and stared at the clock on the wall opposite. He now knew his sister’s new name and the names and ages of his nephew and niece. According to his calculations, his sister must now be somewhere in the tropical north of the Queensland colony. So too was his brother, Lachlan.

John stood and stretched his legs. He strolled over to the window that gave him a view of the street below. Gazing out the window; he allowed the turbulent emotions to swirl around in his mind. Lachlan could go to Cooktown and the Palmer to search out his sister, he thought. He would cable north with the news and arrange to join his brother in the search for their beloved sister. Yes, it was certainly time that he once again reunited with his brother, whom he had now not seen for five years. Deep down, John had a good feeling about the news. He was within easy reach of upholding the oath he had made so long ago.

‘Thank you, Lord!’ John shouted in exhilaration.

The office door opened and his personal assistant poked her head in.

‘Did you call for me, Mr MacDonald?’ she asked in a puzzled tone.

John smiled at her. ‘Not unless you command the hosts on high,’ he replied, ‘thank you, Gertrude.’

Nicholas Busby’s campaign to assist Charles Lightfoot with his brother-in-law’s investments had got off to a good start. A real estate deal in Sydney had returned a 200 per cent profit, giving Lightfoot good reason to trust the entrepreneur’s business acumen. Nicholas was also able to put forward Lightfoot’s name for membership to the Australia Club. This night, they met in the plush surroundings.

‘Well, old chap, here is to you and your very sound financial advice,’ Lightfoot said, raising his glass in a toast.

‘My pleasure,’ Nicholas responded. ‘Anything to assist a fellow countryman of such impeccable reputation.’

Lightfoot looked pleased with the compliment. ‘I have a great favour to ask,’ he said. ‘To do with a possible future investment.’

‘It would be a pleasure to be of assistance, Major,’ Nicholas said with a fleeting, enigmatic smile. ‘You only have to ask.’

‘The thing is,’ Lightfoot started, ‘Sir Percival is somewhat of an amateur geologist and has a desire to travel to Cooktown and view a geological formation in that area called Black Mountain. He has asked me if you might know of someone trustworthy to act as his guide up there. I feel with all your contacts that you might be able to steer me in the right direction. I have to confess that I know little about his peculiar interest but he has informed me the mountain is of sufficient significant geological importance to warrant exploration.’

A name came immediately to Nicholas’s mind, but he dared not speak it. ‘If you give me time I shall make some inquiries,’ he replied. ‘I am sure that I can satisfy Sir Percival’s request.’

Lightfoot settled back to enjoy the conversation at the club. It had as its members some of the most influential and wealthy men in the colonies. He knew that he was in good
company and looked forward to swelling the capital his brother-in-law had entrusted to him. Charles felt the smugness of one who had always known what was best for his sister – and the marriage he had arranged had proved one of his best investments, following the decline of his own small fortune. Too many losses at the card table and the expenses of living the life of a gentleman around London had sapped his finances. Through his brother-in-law he had a chance to redeem his fortune and the opportune meeting with Nicholas Busby in New Zealand had been God sent.

That evening, Nicholas related the conversation that he had with Charles Lightfoot and told John about Sir Percival’s request.

‘You seem to have Lightfoot’s trust,’ John said. ‘My brother would be more than capable of acting as a guide, but Lightfoot would be bound to recognise him.’

‘As far as I know Lightfoot himself is not travelling north; it would be Sir Percival alone. According to Lightfoot, he would be very generous when it came to payment.’

John gave the matter serious thought. Would it be safe to have Lachlan escort the English adventurer to Black Mountain? What advantage would there be in allowing him to do so? It would not be the money; Lachlan was already well off. His inheritance had been invested wisely and grown considerably. Indeed, Lachlan had enough income to settle down to his own business or simply retire on the interest his money was bringing in.

There was also the possibility of Lachlan going to the Palmer goldfields in search of their sister to be considered. ‘Maybe it would not hurt to contact Lachlan and put forward the proposal,’ John finally relented, having formulated what he would do about seeking out Phoebe. ‘It could do no harm and might even put him in a position to monitor Lightfoot.’

‘You mean collect intelligence,’ Nicholas said, pouring a sherry from a crystal decanter on the sideboard. ‘I hope that I never make the mistake of crossing you, John.’

‘Not so long as you remain faithful to me,’ John replied with the faintest of smiles. ‘We Scots are well known to carry a grudge – even to the grave. I would haunt you forever if you ever sought another to take my place.’

‘That will not happen,’ Nicholas sighed. ‘Even with all my vices, loyalty and love happen to be two of my greatest strengths.’

‘I know,’ John said, rising from the chair and walking across to Nicholas. He placed his arm around the Englishman’s shoulders and hugged him. ‘We will be together until the day one of us should die. Oh, and I have decided to book a berth north to visit my brother for a short while.’

‘You are not intending to travel with him to the Palmer, are you?’ Nicholas asked, shocked at his partner’s decision.

‘Why not?’ John smiled. ‘I think it is about time that I visit those wild places in the north he seems to love so much.’

‘It’s dangerous!’ Nicholas exclaimed. ‘I have heard tales that the savages up that way are cannibals – not to mention the abundance of ruffians who would cut your throat for little else than the clothes you wear. Do you think that your decision is wise?’

‘I may not be the heroic figure cut by my brother but I have another reason to go to the Palmer – I am in receipt of information that my sister may be on the goldfields.’

‘Then that makes all the difference,’ Nicholas said. ‘I can see why you would risk much to find her.’

‘I knew that you would understand.’

Within weeks, Lachlan received a long letter from his brother outlining all that had occurred in Sydney since the arrival of Charles Lightfoot, his brother-in-law and Sir Percival’s wife, Lady Amanda Sparkes.

Lachlan felt his heart skip a beat when he read that Amanda was back in Australia. Had he not sworn years earlier to destroy Amanda and her brother? The old wound reopened and once again he felt the terrible emotional pain that her betrayal of her promise to wait for him had wrought. Bitterness rose like bile and Lachlan consoled himself that at least he would not be seeing Amanda again.

John had also mentioned in his letter the matter of him joining Lachlan to search for Phoebe, and that Sir Percival was in need of a guide to Black Mountain. Lachlan knew of the eerie place – a low hill composed of a jumble of huge, black rocks about twenty miles south of Cooktown. Jupiter had been born in the shadow of the hill and had often told Lachlan stories of its evil magic. Once he and Jupiter had sat astride their horses, observing the hill from a distance. When Lachlan had suggested that they ride to it, Jupiter had shrunk away. ‘My people call it the place of the spear,’ he said. ‘That really means the place of death. Do not go there.’

Lachlan gazed across the verandah of the hotel at the shimmering heat on the railing. Why not, he told himself. Maybe just to do so would honour Jupiter’s spirit and besides, Matthew had been nagging him to leave town for the bush. Their friendship was an important part of Lachlan’s life and the big Maori was eager to go exploring. He was as restless as Lachlan; sitting around town had bored him.

‘So brother, when do we go bush?’ Matthew asked when he next met Lachlan.