Affection (4 page)

Humphry called to me, ‘We’d best go now. I think the captain’s keen to get to West Point.’

‘He’s going now?’

The ship heaved again, as if trying to make matters worse, and everyone stepped to port in a sort of bowlegged jig. We headed for the rope ladder with Humphry muttering ‘Bloody fool’.

Beneath the ladder there was confusion on the
Teal
, which had kept its engines going and now was riding the wake of the larger ship as it ran up to the buoy.

‘The man’s gone mad,’ shouted Humphry. Men with hooks were leaning over the front of the steamship to snare the ropes and cast her free.

Humphry was halfway down the rope ladder and I’d just stepped over the side when he yelled up past me, ‘Regulations, Mr Dawson. It’s your Parliament’s law after all.’

Dawson’s face was near me. He hissed, ‘Do something.’

‘There’s nothing I can do about it,’ I said.

He grabbed my arm. ‘But you can. Humphry’s a funk. Tell this Epidemic Board of yours that it’s a remittent bout of typhoid. Because I assure you, that is what it is.’

I could feel the engines thumping and the boat in motion. I shook my arm loose. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re making a grave mistake,’ he said, as I found another rung and stepped down the swinging rope ladder.

‘I must get off this ship,’ I heard Dawson say. ‘Your boss will hear of this.’

I climbed down backwards, and when I looked up again others had appeared beside him. Dawson’s face was stone, but the others looked fearful. I thought it was for themselves. But then I looked down and realised that I was the one in peril.

The wake and the rocking of the ship was uneven and below me I saw Humphry throw his bag, which was caught by a crew member, and then he suddenly launched himself out towards the moving deck of the
Teal
. He was caught smoothly by two crewmen before he could stumble over the other side.

I looked up at the crowd and imagined my own public death.

‘Tell the captain to stop the ship,’ I yelled, but no one moved. I continued down.

I reached the point from where Humphry had jumped. I threw my bag and it was fumbled and dropped into the launch. The
Teal
’s crew were yelling for me to be steady and wait for the crest of the wake, and one of the passengers above me yelled the opposite. All this time the ship was moving crabwise and the
Teal
banging into the side, and I imagined my body being scraped along the ship’s hull like jam.

I waited, and when the crew beckoned I jumped.

A woman screamed at that point and I wondered if God would seize this eternal moment to Act.

Then hands grabbed me and three of us fell to the rolling deck.

By the time we got to our feet, the launch had pulled away from the steamship and Humphry had his flask out. He handed it to me and I drank. I looked back at the
Cintra.
A crowd had gathered around Dawson. I was glad I couldn’t hear. A few people watched us depart, but nobody waved.

So far the plague…is a very small affair. It isn’t a patch on the daily, hourly typhoid as a means of slaughtering the public, and so far it has proved about as safe as football, and much safer than it was a few weeks ago to have doubts concerning the absolute justice of the war in South Africa.

The Bulletin,
21 March 1900

THE REVEREND KERR HAD
found a rhythm so I left him to it and closed my eyes, just for a moment. His baritone voice washed over me and out the door where it was consumed by the heat haze, devoured by a dust devil.

I started awake, blinking, and had the impression that Maria had been watching me. She was now staring ahead a little too intently, holding her small chin high. A droplet of perspiration ran past her ear and she dabbed at it with the floral handkerchief she held in her hand. She swallowed, once, but didn’t give her game away.

Allan sat between us and kicked at the pew in front.
Eileen and Marjorie were quiet and out of sight beyond their mother.

The heat radiated from the wall at my back and I forced myself to sit straight. An infant cried with little conviction.

‘And Moses was very wroth…’ droned the Reverend Kerr. I knew this passage. The Lord had been angry with some of his chosen people and this was what came of it – as Allan’s mother often told him, the wages of sin being death to the Levites and a stubbed toe for a tardy boy.

I closed my eyes, ran a finger under my collar, and felt the wages of my own sins also being paid out on a troublesome tooth.

In the South, this time of the year would be called autumn, but in the North autumn didn’t properly describe a season that couldn’t make up its mind if it was still supposed to be stewing people, as it had since I’d arrived, or whether it was merely as hot as the place the Lord had sent the sons of Levi.

‘…and the earth opened her mouth and swallowed them up…’

A well-chosen passage; since Humphry and I had sent the sinners aboard the
Cintra
to Hell the week before, ministers of all denominations in Townsville were scouring the Bible for something apt. The obvious choice was Revelations. I admired the Reverend Kerr’s choice of Numbers, a much better story of sin and punishment and a valuable lesson in Acts of God.

Everyone was looking for biblical references these days. Plague plus war equalled a well-thumbed Bible. And a crowded church. The iron roof of St Andrew’s not so much kept the sun off the congregation as roasted those tardy enough to attend the late service. Maria was normally the early service sort. I took after my father, God rest his soul.

I opened my eyes a crack. Maria was staring determinedly ahead and the windows let in a white haze so I closed them again.

A man must make his own choices and the North had been a choice of sorts. I might have chosen the Queensland Mounted Contingent. I’d probably been foolish to point out to my wife that some married men had enlisted, and I had to agree I wasn’t the type to wave the flag and whoop it up, but no matter. There is duty, but of course I am a doctor and a married man, and for my family’s well-being the choice was made and Townsville chosen. Make no mistake, Maria had a hand in the decision.

‘…and the Lord spake…’

Townsville was abnormally warm for this time of the year, the Reverend Kerr had assured her, as if the weather was betraying him by giving her the wrong impression of the place.

The roof stretched in the heat.

And somewhere to my right, on the other side of Melton Hill, across the dusty streets that ran down to the Strand, through creaking iron-sheeted cottages and
over a bay as thick and warm as blood, Mr Dawson was no doubt scheming revenge.

Incarcerating the
Cintra
passengers had enhanced my reputation. Humphry and I were now regarded with the sort of wary respect given to people who were mad and dangerous.

‘…they that died in the plague were fourteen thousand and seven hundred, besides them that died about the matter of Korah. And Aaron returned unto Moses unto the door of the tabernacle of the congregation: and the plague was stayed.’

The Reverend Kerr paused, allowing the congregation to shift its weight and cough. When we settled into a new stupor he went on to urge us to ‘recognise the plague in our own hearts’.

How fortunate to be a pastor in a time of pestilence.

We shared the pew with Mrs Duffy, who handed out the Bibles. Usually, we were the only back-pew sitters. Mrs Duffy came to both the early and late services and undoubtedly made no judgments of her own.

But across the aisle today was a young woman with red hair and a white frock. Few in the congregation looked, but a couple of men stole glances in her direction, at which I could sense Mrs Duffy bristling.

The young woman seemed better at dozing than I, and beside her was a child of perhaps two or three kicking her legs listlessly.

‘There are other plagues in the community that we suffer without complaint,’ said Reverend Kerr, his sonorous voice filling the church to its hot iron roof. ‘There are plagues of Saturday night shopping, Sunday labour, gambling, the drink evil.’

Someone coughed and I snapped my head up.

Townsville had seemed a good choice. Its winters were warm. It would do the children good. Men were making fortunes in gold and sugar. The North was prosperous and exotic.

But I’d been disappointed to find the streets unpaved, the water foul and a frontier disregard for sobriety and manners. There were some grand buildings along Flinders-street, but the housing was generally poor, thin-skinned and prone to invasions of rats, insects, reptiles and amphibians. Not that Maria complained. She said, when we first arrived, that she supposed she should be thankful I was not being shot at. Humphry had told her that wasn’t out of the question.

‘…but the worst plague of all, the plague of sin, which is a lack of love and loyalty to God, and which, like leprosy, is subtle, incurable by human means, and fatal.’

I yawned behind my hand and stretched my back by leaning forward. I could see around Mrs Duffy and noticed the young woman was praying, or asleep, with her head on her arms leaning against the back of the pew in front of her.

A sudden cough racked her and she lifted her head.
Those seated in front drew away. The Reverend Kerr continued to talk about the Great Physician.

She coughed like a horse. In profile I saw the top of her neck white and slender above a tight collar, and a pretty face, if a little gaunt.

The child kicked the air beside her and seemed deaf to her mother’s fit. The coughing ceased after an agonising while, she laid her head back into the material on her forearms.

I wondered if the pair had escaped from the consumptive ward. I hadn’t seen her at church before, but then perhaps she’d been there and I hadn’t noticed. I’d just blown in and the jury was still out, I’d heard, on my long-term ability to commit to the North. Doctors, unlike priests and public servants, rarely travelled far from their comforts and were viewed with suspicion when they did.

Perhaps the girl and her child had just arrived from some hard outback station between Townsville and the gold fields. It may be that they’d escaped the brute of a station manager by walking to the railway line and hailing a train. Such things happened. But they were too pale to have been out west.

The woman looked beaten by some ailment. Young, perhaps eighteen, maybe twenty-one. Possibly…well, possibly younger, possibly older. My heart went out to her child though.

I decided to speak with the mother. Parents often passed serious ailments on to their children.

The Reverend announced the ‘Old Hundredth’ and we all stood, but for that pair, who seemed not to have noticed.

We waited near the door. A breeze brushed my neck. Just a tickle.

I could see the trees on Castle Hill swaying and Mrs Duffy took Maria’s Bible and told her it was the south-easterly trade arriving late, but at least arriving, which was more than could be said for the mail, blaming me no doubt for the delay.

Allan squeezed through the forest of legs and escaped outside, but Maria held the girls back. Eileen was tall, almost a young woman herself, holding her hat in front of her and refusing her mother’s hand. Marjorie clung to her mother’s dress. Maria fanned herself with a free hand.

The Reverend Kerr stood just inside the porch, holding the congregation in purgatory, releasing us one at a time after interrogation.

‘Feels like Salvation, Mrs Row?’

My women put their hats on and carried their skirts quickly down the cement steps. The Reverend grabbed my hand and didn’t let go.

‘An Act of God, do you think?’

‘Just the grace of God, I’m sure,’ I said.

‘I meant the case of plague.’

‘Oh. I believe the steward is recovering,’ I said. ‘An act of natural disease perhaps this time.’

‘Well, a warning no doubt. I fear God’s been warning us for some time.’ He looked off into the distance, perhaps for a sign, and there was the gurgle from a crow. ‘Modern times. We rush headlong like a locomotive. Into a new century. A new country. I wonder sometimes. Pride, you know, is a sin. Too fast progress, but it could be an Old Foe that overtakes us.’ He looked at me earnestly. ‘
And behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him
. Interesting don’t you think that God chooses this moment, this year, to visit us again with pestilence and war.’

He let go of my hand, but grabbed my forearm and leaned forward. ‘I want you to know, Doctor, that I do think there is a lot going for modern medicine. I do, unlike some, and I know you do your best. But our first consultation, if you will, has to be with our Heavenly Father. The Great Physician. You did like the sermon? If you have faith, the plague will not touch you. Tell me, was he an Irishman?’

‘Who?’

‘The man struck down.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Kerr nodded and kept hold of my arm. ‘You look tired.’

‘Work.’

Someone behind me cleared his throat. Maria was near the front gate speaking with a group of women who were dressed all in black. She glanced back.

‘A family is a blessing,’ he said. ‘You’re a lucky man.’

I said, ‘Mr Philp’s sending up another doctor from Brisbane. He’ll be here by the end of the week.’

‘Ah.’

‘He’s a doctor who makes a study of germs.’

‘Germs.’ He held the word in his mouth for a moment. ‘Let’s not discount God’s hand in this though, and the healing power of Prayer. Perhaps this Brisbane physician is Presbyterian? What’s his name?’

‘Turner.’

‘Turner. Turner.’ He seemed to be tasting the name. ‘Dr Turner. Hmm.’

‘Jefferis Turner.’

‘The entomologist?’

‘Bacteriologist.’

‘Dr
A. Jefferis
Turner. My word.’ He let go of my arm and stared up into the bell tower.

‘You know him?’ I said.

‘I do. I know
of
him. Moths, you know.’

I’d met Turner. Briefly. He had a reputation as an expert on a number of things. I thought the Reverend had the wrong man, but I wasn’t going to argue with him.

Kerr was saying, ‘My interest too. Well, butterflies. A small group we have up here. Lepidopterists. How interesting. Acts of God can giveth as well as taketh away, you know, Dr Row. They’re called
blessings
. Remember that.’

Some in the crowd behind me had started to complain and several fellows no longer able to wait
pushed past. Kerr ignored them and said to himself, ‘Well, well. Turner is coming.’

The Reverend gave my arm a final pump, and I escaped.

I stood under the lone fig tree that shaded a corner of the churchyard next to the road. It rustled in the breeze and was gloriously cooler. I kept an eye on the rest of the congregation as they were delivered from the church. They milled near the bottom of the steps, splitting into groups, stiff-necked women in threes now wearing huge feathered hats, men in boxers and three-piece suits lighting pipes, children running around on the gravel. For all the talk of ‘one people, one destiny’, North Queensland was still firmly anchored in the Empire.

Maria had rounded up Allan, who was now sullenly kicking at the gravel. Eileen glanced my way, quickly, from under her hat. Marjorie was still clinging to her mother, whose ear had been taken by Mrs Kerr, the Reverend’s wife and president of the Women’s Guild. Allan saw his chance and slunk away again.

I was happy to have a few moments’ peace, and decided that, if I saw her, I’d approach the young woman in the diaphanous dress to ask about the health of her child.

A hand came down on my shoulder.

‘I startled you, Dr Row. So sorry.’

‘You’re right,’ I said, trying to keep composed. The Mayor had somehow outflanked me. Behind His Worship, the Mayoress sat primly in their buggy.

‘She’s in a hurry to be off,’ he said, as if I was delaying him.

I’d had the McCreedys pegged as early service types. I’d never seen them in church before.

The Mayor’s lacquered moustache was as dark and shiny as a liquorice strap. He pulled a gold watch from his fob pocket. ‘Your watch keeps good time, I take it? Yes, of course it does.’ He put his back without looking at it.

‘Now, a quiet word.’ No one was in ear-shot, but he leaned forward. ‘About the plague issue. Man to man. You follow me?’

McCreedy started making a speech, in the sort of tone he used in council chambers, his eyes drifting over my shoulder into the distance as he sought his words and found a rhythm.

‘…and the Home Secretary, no less, instructed our own Government health officer not to go about bothering the shipping companies over fumigation, even if the damned ship in question came from Sydney or Brisbane. I must say I support Dr Humphry on this one and insofar as the council can make such demands, I’ll be insisting every ship from any infected port be fumigated for a good twelve hours before being unloaded…’ and so forth.

My mind had a dangerous habit of drifting in council meetings. Maria was now looking my way. She still had
the girls but Allan was nowhere to be seen and had probably made a dash for home. His mother pointed in that direction and I nodded and she marched off with the girls, leaving me to McCreedy.