Ghost Boy Read online

  ‘Are you allowed to visit him?’ Tad asked eagerly. Perhaps it might be easier to visit his father than he’d thought.

  But the woman pulled a face as she shook her head, ‘No.’ She noticed Tad glance curiously at her bare feet. ‘My boots were stolen from me while I was asleep,’ she explained, her voice bitter. ‘If you have anything valuable, make sure that you keep it with you. Otherwise it’ll vanish just like that.’ And she clicked her fingers in the air.

  Tad thought suddenly of his mother’s locket, and was afraid. Would the fat woman take it, now that he had gone? But he couldn’t go back for Joseph, not yet. He’d just have to trust her.

  The woman’s step quickened. She had caught sight of one of the boatmen who had come up the beach and now was unlocking the gate that gave access to the hospital enclosure. Tad hurried to keep up with her, tried not to look at the pile of coffins stored near the gate. It had grown since he had last come this way. Why? Were they expecting so many more deaths?

  The boatman looked cross when he found his way barred by the woman and two children.

  ‘If you please, sir,’ the woman said breathlessly, ‘can you give me news of my husband? He’s young and strong, only thirty years of age, and he goes by the name of Thomas Hanlon.’

  ‘No,’ the man said brusquely and tried to push past her. ‘There are that many people on board, ma’m, we don’t have time for names.’ He wouldn’t look at them and stared at a spot over their heads as he added: ‘You’ll be notified if anything happens to your husband.’

  He’s lying. He knows something, Tad thought.

  The woman’s face was deathly pale. ‘You’d know him, I’m sure you would!’ She pushed her daughter forward. ‘He’s got the same colour hair as my girl’s. And a flaming red beard to match. You can’t mistake him, really.’

  The man’s glance flickered over the young girl. ‘I know him,’ he admitted. ‘He’s been pretty bad but he’s over the worst, I reckon.’

  The woman’s shoulders sagged with relief. ‘Can I go over and see him? I can help look after him.’ She looked at the man eagerly, but he shook his head.

  ‘No mixing,’ he said roughly. ‘We don’t want the smallpox to spread.’

  ‘But I’ve already had …’ The young woman stuffed her fist into her mouth, her eyes full of tears. The man had pushed past her and was gone.

  So, there was no official way of getting over to the Faraway. Tad realised he would have to wait until dark, and then swim over.

  He shivered as he thought of how cold the water was going to be. It was June and summer in England, but here, all these thousands of miles across the world, it was the beginning of winter.

  He ought to get back to Joseph, but the gentle sunshine and eucalypt-scented air made him want to linger. Besides, he’d come out to look around, make a plan. So far he’d achieved absolutely nothing. He needed to work out the layout of the place, he thought, justifying his reluctance to face the dead Mary-Anne. He looked up at the slopes, past the hospital enclosure towards the healthy ground beyond. He’d get a jolly good view from up there! If he could see the whole of the station, it might give him an idea of how to smuggle his way across to the Faraway.

  He left the woman and child still staring across the beach towards the ships at anchor: the ship that had brought them from England, now being cleansed and fumigated, and the barque that housed the infected men. There was little he could do about climbing the fence in daylight. There were too many policemen about for that. But it might be possible to scramble down to the waterline from another angle.

  Unobtrusively Tad edged upwards, past the cookhouse and hospital wards and the rows of tents, towards the fence at the back, marked at its perimeter by tall cairns of white-washed stones. There wasn’t much shelter. The land had been cleared down here and only small pockets of bush gave him some sort of cover as he climbed higher, until at last the perimeter fence blocked his way. Tad raised his head cautiously. No-one was in sight. Quickly he scaled the fence and dropped, breathless, to the other side. But the slope beyond afforded sparse cover, and now Tad could hear the faint rattle of stones as careless feet kicked them aside. Someone was coming!

  He raced towards a patch of dense bush and dived under cover just as a policeman swung down the path. Tad crouched down and whipped out the small sharp knife his father had given him. It was his favourite possession. Already he had carved a small rabbit for Joseph to play with out of a discarded block of wood he’d found on board ship. It was pretty rough. He still needed to put in plenty of practice, but Joseph was too young to be a good judge of toys. He loved it and played with it often. Tad had carved his initials and the date on the bottom, and this gave him an idea as he turned his attention to a large block of sandstone half buried among the bushes.

  As the policeman walked past, Tad was engaged in the innocent and harmless occupation of engraving his name. Not noticing him, the constable strode by, but Tad, now intent on his task, was determined to finish it. It seemed important, suddenly, to record what was happening to him.

  ‘THADDEUS DEARBORNE’ he printed. The letters were ragged and uneven and became larger as Tad gained confidence in his carving skills. After a moment’s thought he added: ‘CHARLES DEARBORNE’, and then underneath: ‘MARY-ANNE D …’ He paused to consider. Was Mary-Anne a Dearborne, too? Had his father married her? Tad didn’t think so. His mother had always said she would never divorce his father. But if Mary-Anne wasn’t married, it meant she wasn’t a Dearborne. So who was she?

  He screwed up his eyes and tried to remember. But he couldn’t. In fact he wasn’t sure he’d ever been told. His mother had always called her ‘that whore’. And his father simply called her ‘Mary-Anne’ or ‘Dearest’.

  Tad studied the inscription, then carefully added ‘EAREST’ after the ‘D’ he had already carved. Then, conscious of the lengthening shadows and the rapidly cooling air, he quickly added ‘JOSEPH DEARBORNE,’ and the date: ‘June 27th, 1881’ to the list before he hurried on his way.

  The bush was getting dark now, full of rustling noises. Tad felt nervous. From the hospital enclosure he’d seen strange birds flying past – huge white ones with yellow crests, that shrieked with harsh voices; and brown ones that sat on high branches always out of reach and laughed their mocking laugh. If the birds were so different in this country, and the bushes and trees, what were the animals and insects like?

  Tad pushed on through thick, dry creepers that lay over grass and small bushes like strangling spider webs. He dared not come out into the open and risk being seen. Suddenly a large lizard barred his way, flickering a lazy, blue tongue at him. Tad jumped and felt his hands start to sweat, even though it was cold. Cautiously, he edged around it.

  A brown creature with a long tail shot past and Tad stopped. He held his breath. He’d never seen such a huge rat! Or was it? He looked more closely, but it was gone. The white puff of a rabbit’s tail bobbed in the long grass and Tad smiled, recognising something from home.

  He reached the top of the hill and, after a moment’s thought, scrambled up the smooth lower branches of a stubby eucalypt for an even better view. He knew the branches would give him cover if anyone was watching.

  Across the glittering water, now turning pink as it reflected the dying rays of the sun, was a solid landmass. The land was indented with deep bays and water channels, which ended in the bulky dragon shape of the far South Head on his left and swept around in an enormous semicircle to the small settlement called Manly on his right.

  From his vantage point, Tad saw a cluster of buildings around Manly wharf which gave way to the bush leading up to North Head and the accommodation in the healthy ground section of the Quarantine Station, marked by a far line of whitewashed stone cairns. No point making a run for it in that direction.

  He narrowed his eyes and looked straight ahead. Directly across the water in front of him, a rocky headland jutted out into the sea. Its slopes looked as if they’d been crocheted in dark green lace
. At its base was a small half-moon beach, the pale sand marred by a long dark ribbon.

  Fresh water, thought Tad. He’d seen the same markings on the beach at Spring Cove. Tad had heard one of the crew complaining about the fresh water spring that usually supplied the Quarantine Station. It had almost dried up. With so many people living there, the authorities had arranged for fresh water to be sent in by boat. Tad could see the water tank far below, anchored between the beach and the Faraway. But water was still scarce. There was nowhere to wash and no carbolic soap to wash with. Tad thought of the stench from the water closets in the hospital enclosure and wished that it would rain so they could have fresh running water again.

  He studied the headland opposite with more interest. From this angle it didn’t look all that far away. A supply of fresh water was vital to any new settlement. He’d learnt that in school, when the teacher had talked about the early civilisations. Every major city had been established on a river – every single one.

  The mournful hoot of a large steam ferry broke through Tad’s thoughts. It was just pulling away from the pier off Manly beach. He had noticed it several times, churning through the blue water, full of people who looked like small ants from so far away. Tad wished he was on board, going somewhere interesting.

  Daydreams weren’t going to get him anywhere! He focused on the headland again. Once, at night, he had seen the light of a fire across the water. Did anyone live there? Maybe he and Joseph could move across there with his father, when his father was well enough to leave. They could build a house in the bush.

  Tad wriggled uncomfortably among the branches, feeling the rays of the dying sun warm on his face as he closed his eyes and thought how wonderful it would be to clear the bush and set up a home with his father. They could go fishing and hunting together; there’d always be plenty to eat. When Joseph was old enough, he could come too. Father had enough money to buy land, Tad knew that. He came from a rich family who’d lived in England for centuries. He’d left it all behind when he ran away to be with Mary-Anne. But Papa had kept some money. Tad had seen the box. The ‘family treasure’. His father had laughed as he’d patted the small, heavy box wrapped in oilskin that he’d taken with him everywhere.

  With the money we can buy horses and cows, we can clear the land and build a house, and keep chickens, so we’ll have eggs, too. Tad lay among the branches and spun plans. It would be like paradise!

  A rustle in the bushes below drew him back to his surroundings. A large brown snake was sliding slowly through the leaves, its tongue flickering in and out as it went. Tad lay still, and the snake slithered on.

  Time to get back. And he still had no plan! He scrambled down from the tree and started reluctantly along the path. He really didn’t want to go out to the hospital ship. He’d heard a boatman telling one of the nurses how crowded it was, all the sick men living on top of each other, with no-one to care for them because no-one wanted to go near the Faraway in case they caught the disease and died from it. But there was nothing wrong with his father! Tad knew he’d only been taken away because he’d been in contact with Mary-Anne. That was why they were all in isolation. But surely they’d free his father soon. His father would insist on it, once he heard about Mary-Anne. Besides, they’d all been inoculated.

  Tad pulled a face as he remembered the long sea voyage and the awkward attempts of the ship’s doctor to inoculate the passengers after the first case of smallpox had been reported. It had been horrible. The doctor had collected scabs from the sores of the patient and ground them down into powder. Then he had made a tiny slit in their arms and spread a little powder onto the wound. The whole notion was disgusting. And it had hurt! The doctor had warned them that they might still get the disease, but he hadn’t told them just how badly they might get it – that they might even die from it.

  Tad remembered Mary-Anne and how bravely she had died, without complaining, wanting only his promise that he would take care of Joseph. He tried to keep up his spirits as he slithered down through the bush and climbed the fence once more. He realised then that he’d come out at a different place. He was close to a cluster of tents, pitched some distance from the other tents and buildings in the hospital enclosure. They belonged to the Chinamen. He’d heard some of the town women talking about them, cursing them, blaming them for the outbreak of smallpox at a place called The Rocks. No-one would have anything to do with the Chinamen.

  Tad watched them for a moment, fascinated by their beige faces and slanting eyes, their long pigtails, baggy jackets and loose trousers. They stood around, chattering in strange high sounds as they stirred their cooking pots over an open fire.

  His stomach growled hungrily, and lured by the smell of cooking Tad crept closer. There was only an unwalled shelter for the people to eat in. Tad saw a toothless old man seated on a rough bench, digging into his food with long sticks. He watched, fascinated, as the man rolled the sticks through his fingers, delicately picking up the food and transferring it to his mouth without spilling a single grain. It looked jolly difficult, he thought, and he felt faint and empty as he remembered the slice of bread and butter, the mug of black tea with a drop of condensed milk, which was all they’d been given for lunch.

  One of the Chinamen looked up at him and frowned. He seemed hostile. Tad gave him a nervous smile. After a moment, the Chinaman returned Tad’s smile and beckoned him closer. Tad crept forward cautiously. Now he could see that some of the pots contained rice, grainy brown mounds of it. The man took up a tin plate and spooned some rice onto it. He turned to another pot and carefully, as though each drop was precious, ladled some of its contents onto the plate. Tad tried to see what it was: dark gravy and lumps, some sort of meat and vegetables. He had a sudden vision of the huge bush-rat thing he’d seen, then closed his mind to it. He was really hungry. The Chinaman hesitated and, afraid he’d change his mind, Tad held out his hand for the plate. The man said something to him, but Tad couldn’t understand, so he just smiled and nodded, then started to eat, using his fingers. He was too hungry to waste time with sticks!

  The Chinaman clicked his tongue softly then said something to another man nearby and they both laughed.

  Tad wondered if they were criticising his manners but decided he was too hungry to care. He continued to eat, but tried not to question the dark leaves and pale shreds of steaming meat mixed in with the rice. If the Chinamen wanted to add to their rations from the bush, that was their business, he decided. Anyway, whatever it was, it tasted good!

  He handed back the empty plate, shyly wiping his mouth. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and the man smiled and nodded.

  Feeling comforted by the hot food in his belly, Tad used the last of the light to check if there was any way he could get to the water line without having to go over the fence. The shore on the side was guarded by thick bush, with a sheer drop to the rocks below. He was likely to break his neck if he tried to go that way!

  He looked across at the hospital ship. Faraway. It wasn’t very far away. But even though they were separated by only a small strip of water it seemed like the far end of the earth to Tad. He sighed as he walked back down towards the fence at the beach. He would have to swim. He had no choice, but he couldn’t make a move until everyone was asleep.

  Tad thought about Joseph. By now he would be awake, probably screaming for his mother. Tad wondered if Mary-Anne had been taken away yet and put into one of the coffins piled by the gate. He peered across in the dim light, but the pile seemed as high as ever.

  Tad shivered. He hoped that the fat lady was still looking after his little brother. He daren’t go back yet. Joseph would want to come with him, but Tad knew it would be hard enough for him to swim over to the hospital ship, let alone take a small child with him. No. His first task was to check on his father and break the news about Mary-Anne to him. Then he’d go back to Joseph, because by then they would have made a plan and his father would have told him what to do. Meantime there was nothing else for it but to stay close to
the fence and wait until it was properly dark.

  5

  Tad felt colder and colder. He wished he’d found a coat to put on over his jersey before he’d gone exploring, but in his panic and confusion, he hadn’t thought about anything except getting out of the hospital ward as fast as possible. Now he stood shivering in the dark shadows, pressed against the buildings that lined the jetty. It was freezing, but he dared not move. Not yet.

  It had been busy on the beach. After the night sky had closed in, Tad had managed to climb the fence without being seen. He was just preparing for a cold swim when the light of lanterns warned him that someone was coming. From their uniforms, Tad saw the newcomers were two policemen, huge giants with pockmarked faces. With them was a small, balding man who swayed slightly as he stood on the beach talking to them. Tad squinted through the shadows and identified the doctor. He was protesting furiously about something. Tad could hear his voice, squeaky with indignation as he shook his fist in one of the men’s faces. They turned away from him in disgust and walked down to the water’s edge where one of them climbed into a rowboat. The other policeman pushed it out, then hopped in, took up the oars and together the two of them rowed out to the Faraway. The doctor waited on the beach, stamped his feet and blew on his hands to keep them warm.

  Tad could see the bulk of the Faraway silhouetted against the stars, could sense movement as dark figures appeared on the side of the ship. They started to lower a bundle down to the rowboat. The two men carefully settled the bundle on the bottom of the boat and then waited for another. And another. The boat pulled away once more, a dark beetle crawling slowly across the shiny surface of the sea, where a million stars were reflected in small glittering points of light.

  The boat crunched softly onto the sand. ‘Over here, doctor!’