This Golden Land (11 page)

     Sea water was pouring through the smashed porthole.

     Hannah rushed in behind him and frantically gathered up a blanket
to stuff into the opening, but she slipped when the ship lurched. Neal fell forward, landing on the sodden bunk, and more water poured in. As he struggled to get upright, Hannah cried, "We shall drown if we do not block this window!"

     The ship rolled again, and the two fell backward. Enough light came through the porthole to show Neal that there were already about six inches of water in the cabin.

     Knowing that there was no way he could go for help, he pulled sheets off a bunk, and then the mattress, and pushed toward the window, straining against the steep list of the vessel. Suddenly the
Caprica
was flung the other way, and Neal was dashed forward, helplessly, to crash against the bulkhead.

     The ship careened so far over, and so much water poured in that Neal thought surely this was going to be the sinking of the
Caprica.

     And then Hannah was there, dragging the mattress from his arms and struggling to lift it to the window. Gaining his footing, Neal lifted the rest of the bulky mass of feathers and ticking, and together they jammed the mattress into the opening, filling in the edges with sheets so that the cabin was once again plunged into utter darkness.

     The groaning and creaking of the boards sounded as if the ship were about to be torn apart while the storm roared and bellowed and kicked up the seas. "Mr. Scott!" Hannah called out in the darkness. "Are you all right?"

     "I'm here!" he shouted, holding out his arms, blindly searching for her. Their hands met and he pulled her to him. The
Caprica
lurched and then dropped suddenly, and Hannah threw her arms around Neal to hold tightly to him. She was soaked. Her gown clung to her body and her wet hair streamed down her back and over her breasts. Neal could feel her trembling flesh beneath his hands.

     In the darkness they held onto each other, falling this way and that until Neal caught hold of the doorframe and wedged himself against it so that with the next tossing and falling of the ship, he stayed rooted, holding Hannah tightly in his arms as she shivered and buried her face in his neck.

     Neal thought of their lives ending in this unknown and unmarked spot, and he pictured the watery grave that awaited them below. He thought of the young woman quivering in his arms. He pressed his lips to her cold
wet hair and drew her more tightly to him. The
Caprica
was thrown into a sickening yaw that seemed to spin her in a complete circle. Neal held on and kept himself and Hannah upright. The seas grew high, lifting the ship like a twig on a raging river, to drop it again in such a steep plunge that Hannah screamed. With freezing water swirling about her ankles, she dug her fingers into Neal's back and held onto him as if he were a life preserver.

     A giant wave slammed the
Caprica
abeam and she careened so far over that Neal and Hannah knew this was the moment of capsize. Hannah pressed her hand against Neal's neck. He lowered his head. Hannah lifted face and their lips met in the terrifying darkness, in a deep kiss driven by passion, fear and a last desperate grasp for precious life.

L
AND HAS BEEN SIGHTED
, C
APTAIN
. F
REMANTLE DEAD AHEAD
."

     "Thank you, Mister James. Full and by, Mr. Olson," Captain Llewellyn said to the helmsman at the wheel.

     "Aye aye, Captain."

     The passengers gathered on deck along with officers and such crew as were not working the lines. It was a somber moment. They and the
Caprica
had survived the storm, but the memory of that terrible night weeks ago would stay with them for the rest of their lives.

     By dawn the next day, the enormous squall had passed and the sun had broken through clouds to illuminate a drenched and broken
Caprica
—but still seaworthy, Captain Llewellyn had found, and so he had given orders for a new course to Cape Town, where they would shelter and make repairs. The immigrants had then been brought on deck, first to kneel on the soaked boards to pray, and then for a head count. Six had perished in the storm, two of them infants. Among the crew, eight had been washed overboard, while the officers had come through, albeit with injuries.

     But the sailor whom Caleb Merriwether had risked his life to save, had come through the ordeal with but a scratch on his head.

     And now the west coast of Australia lay before them, bright and vibrant like a beacon of hope.

     As Hannah stood on the deck in the golden sunshine, she thought of Neal Scott and their desperate hours together in her cabin as he had held her so tightly, and she had felt his warmth and strength when she was certain each breath was their last. And their kiss, which had lasted an eternity before a scream from Hannah had broken them apart.

     They had not kissed again, during the storm, or afterward when they realized they were alive. Nor had they spoken of that moment. Each needed to think about that night, to examine startling new feelings, and find a way to understand the new life they had emerged into that next morning—because both Neal and Hannah had been changed.

     At Hannah's side, Neal Scott watched the shoreline of Western Australia as it grew more distinct on the sunlit horizon. He thought of the remarkable young woman standing next to him. He had held her in his arms, thinking they were about to die, they had kissed in a way that had been both erotic and desperate, they had clung together and kissed as they thought they were about to die, and everything had changed. Neal was no longer thankful that they were going their separate ways. He did not want to leave Hannah. But he had no choice. He was to disembark here, and she was to continue on.

     There was so much he wanted to say to her, but there had been no opportunity for private conversation after the storm. Hannah's cabin had been so severely damaged that she had moved in with Mrs. Merriwether, while the Reverend had bunked with Neal. The ship had been a beehive of activity, with seaman hammering, sawing, boiling tar, Neal joining them, along with able-bodied immigrant men, repairing the
Caprica
as she limped toward Cape Town. Hannah had had her hands full assisting Dr. Applewhite with injuries, infections, and hysteria. The only times Neal and Hannah spent a few minutes together were at meals, and that was in the company of others. They would look across the table, eyes meeting, and the hungers born the night of the storm flared between them.

     They stood close together now at the rail, watching the approaching
mainland. The other passengers also stood in awestruck silence beneath a vast, blue sky and sparkling sunlight. As the
Caprica
neared the coast, everyone saw deep-blue ocean turn shades lighter until finally they glimpsed lime-green water embracing white-sand beaches. Beyond, lay a tree covered plain stretching away to mountains.

     But it was the tropical lime-green waters that stopped the breath in every throat. People from damp, misty isles had never seen such a blessed sight, and they prayed that their own destinations of Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney were as heavenly.

     Standing with the four cabin passengers, Mr. Simms the steward said, "Perth was founded seventeen years ago, and right from the beginning hostile encounters erupted between the British settlers and the local Aborigines. Those blackfellahs put up a mighty big fight to hold onto their land, considering they weren't doing anything with it. The English settlers were planting crops and running livestock, doing
something
with the land, you see. But the blacks didn't understand. There were some terrible battles, but that's all over with now. Three years ago a local chief died, and his tribe fell apart. They've retreated to the swamps and lakes north of the settlement, and they don't bother anyone."

     When no one commented, Simms added, "You see before you one of the most isolated settlements on Earth. Did you know that Perth is closer to Singapore than it is to Sydney? And the summers here are hot and dry, with February being the hottest month of the year."

     "Imagine," Mrs. Merriwether declared. "February being the middle of summer!"

     "Imagine," Neal Scott said quietly, "three million square miles of land and nearly all of it never before seen by human eyes. Some speculate that there is a great inland sea and that what we think is the coastline of a continent is really a great reef surrounding that sea. Some speculate that the ruins of ancient cities lie in Australia's heart. Atlantis, perhaps. Or unknown races of humankind. Maybe the lost tribes of Israel live there, and they have built a second Jerusalem."

     Hannah trembled with anticipation at the thought of this new world! A land that had been occupied a mere eighty years, with no centuries-old
castles and antiquated lords and ladies. A place of new beginnings and fresh starts.

     A tender had been deployed from the mainland, rowed by eight sailors, and as it came up alongside the
Caprica
, the Merriwethers said their goodbyes. To Hannah, Reverend Merriwether said that, should she ever find herself in Western Australia, she would be welcome at their mission. "We are not there just for the redemption of Aboriginal souls, Miss Conroy. All who seek the truth are welcome."

     As Abigail watched her husband say good-bye to Miss Conroy, she marveled at the change that had come over him in the weeks since the storm. Caleb had lost weight and gained muscle as he had helped with the ship's repairs. His skin was tanned. He was the picture of health and vigor. Her fear of living at the Aboriginal mission had vanished when she had witnessed her husband's act of bravery. She had not known Caleb possessed such courage and fortitude.

     The Merriwethers were second cousins, and when they were children it had been understood that they would one day marry. Abigail had dutifully complied and had given Caleb five children. A respectful affection had existed between them, but no passion. How strange and unexpected, Abigail thought now in excitement as she looked forward to her new life in this sunny land, to fall in love with one's husband after thirty years.

     As their luggage was being lowered into the tender, Mrs. Merriwether took the opportunity to offer Hannah some advice: "You are very bright and highly educated, Miss Conroy. But let me tell you, no man likes a woman who is smarter or more educated than himself. You must learn to hide your light under a bushel, my dear, at least until you are married."

     "But I have not come to Australia to seek a husband."

     "You need one, whether you want one or not," Mrs. Merriwether said, gray ringlets quivering beneath the brim of her bonnet. "A midwife is expected to be married and have children of her own, otherwise it is improper that a young unmarried lady be exposed to bedroom matters. And women will not care a fig for your formal training if you have never experienced childbirth yourself. If you expect to survive here, my dear, you must first marry."

     And then it was time for Neal and Hannah to say good-bye, as his crates and trunk had been lowered to the tender. In a voice tight with emotion, he said, "I'm not used to putting my feelings into words. I can talk endlessly about the earth and all that is upon it, but when it comes to matters of the heart, I am tongue-tied. But before I leave you, Hannah, you must know of the profound impact you have had upon me. Ever since the day Josiah Scott told me the truth of my birth, I have held such a resentment in my heart against my mother. It is unreasonable, I know, but I have never been able to forgive her for giving me up. But you cracked that stubborn wall, my dear Hannah, when you told me about the tear catcher. It has shown me another side to the woman who is my mother and has planted within me the urgency to learn the truth of my birth and my parentage. I will write letters home, to everyone I can think of, government offices, local town councils and even to church registries. I am eager now to know my mother's name."

     He did not voice the rest, the real reason he was going to search for his origins. It was too soon. Some things needed to be spoken at the proper time. The truth was, he had fallen in love with Hannah Conroy. He wanted to marry her. But while he suspected that Hannah herself did not mind that he was a bastard, he knew that others would. Society did not forgive birth out of wedlock. His past would come back and haunt their present, even to the point of harming their children. And so before he could ask her to marry him, he needed to know who he was, he had to know who he was offering to her.

     Neal knew that if went home right now, bought passage one on of the ships anchored in the harbor, returned to England and from there, to Boston, that he could conduct a more thorough search for his mother, and would have a greater chance of success in finding her. But he didn't want to leave Australia, because Hannah was here. "This is a most difficult farewell," he said to her.

     "Indeed it is," Hannah said softly as she filled her eyes with the sight of tall and handsome Neal Scott. It was exactly six months since they had set sail from England, and she hated to part ways with him. She was tempted to disembark here, but she was also eager to find her place in the new world and begin her midwifery practice. That was the change the storm
had worked on her. Hannah had emerged from the tempest filled with new urgency and the thought that not a day must be wasted.