Murder at Wairere
by
Peter Blakeborough
Published on October 10, 2011. New Zealand historical
fiction. 127310 words.
Available
now from Smashwords at $4.99 USD
Free sample read . . .
Chapter
1
Sydney,
Australia, 1902
The Elingamite made an impressive sight with
her long slender black hull, twin masts and huge steam funnel with three large
lifeboats lining each side of the superstructure.
Newlyweds,
Cedric and Doris Asker, approached some crewmen at the ship end of the gangway.
An older man spoke first.
‘Mr.
Asker?’
‘Yes,
sir.’
‘I’m
First Officer Coombes. Is this your missus?’
‘Yes,
sir.’
‘I
believe she’s going to be a maid to Mrs. Jessop-Prior. I will show her to their
cabin. You will accompany Mr. Hardwick to the engine room. He has a mountain of
coal awaiting your strength and stamina. And if you have notions of turning the
voyage into a honeymoon, best forget it. On this ship there is no fraternizing
between passengers and crew. Understood?’
‘Yes,
sir.’
The
Askers turned to face each other with bleak expressions. It would be five days
before they would meet again to start their married life in a new country. But
they knew they could not afford the trip any other way. The value of the
passage was more than they had between them and they were eager to start their
life in New Zealand. To be able to travel free of charge, he as a crewman and
she as maid to a wealthy passenger, was a marvelous opportunity, even if it
meant they could not see each other during the voyage.
‘Apart
from that,’ Coombes continued with a twinkle in his eye. ‘If you’re going to
earn a free passage to the land of milk and honey, you’re going to need all
your strength for the shovel. Take him below, Mr. Hardwick.’
After
three days and nights, three hours on and three hours off, Cedric was almost
done for. The heat in the engine room was unbearable. He was caked in a thick
layer of coal dust and sweat. He coughed continuously and his spittle was as
black as the Ace of Spades. On the morning of the fourth day at sea the crew
expected to sight the northern-most part of New Zealand. But just after sunrise
a thick fog descended and Captain Atwood ordered the engines to half speed.
Asker welcomed the lower speed. It meant he could shovel the coal at a more
leisurely pace. It was still hard work though and he stopped for a moment and
took a swig from a water flask hanging from his belt. He took a bite from an
apple and placed it back in the pocket of his dungarees. Even at half speed the
engines made enough noise to drown out the frantic cry from the bow.
‘Land
ahead! Go astern!’
The Elingamite held its course and speed.
Atwood
had expected that the Three Kings Islands would be one and a half miles away to
the north of the ship’s track. Another shout came from the bow.
‘Rocks
ahead, sir! God save us, sir. Full astern! Christ Almighty!’
In the
depths of the ship Cedric Asker added some more coal to the inferno. Suddenly
the ship lurched violently and he was flung towards the companionway. The sound
of rocks ripping open the hull could be heard above the noise of the engines.
Even more terrifying for Asker was the immediate invasion into the engine room
of powerful jets of water. Asker ran for the steps.
‘Let’s
get the hell outta here before we’re done for, Mr. Hardwick,’ he shouted at the
sleeping crewman.
Hardwick
sat up as though waking from a nightmare. The water was already thigh deep and
rising rapidly. Cedric reached the deck and saw lifeboats being prepared for
lowering over the side. It was no dream. The Elingamite and its compliment were in mortal danger. The sea was
calm, the fog still thick. She was going down fast. He saw Doris with the
Jessop-Prior’s on the other side of the ship.
‘Go with
them!’ he shouted to his bride of five days. ‘I’m going back down for Mr.
Hardwick. He’s still in the engine room.’
The Elingamite was groaning loudly, listing
precariously, and still impacting violently against the rocks. Near the bottom
of the stairs Cedric met the water coming up, surging, gurgling, foaming and
slapping against cold, hard steel. Desperately he tried to force his way down
against the rushing internal tide. He had to rescue Henry Hardwick before he
went down with the stricken ship. He shouted to Hardwick but could only hear
the tormented sounds of the dying ship. The force of the water lifted him like
a cork on the ocean, flung him through the hatch and dropped him with a bruising
thud onto the deck. Reluctantly, Cedric accepted he had no chance of getting to
Hardwick and hoped the older man had already found his way out.
Cedric
must have been below the deck longer than he thought because when he looked
around he realized that the lifeboats had vanished into the fog. A raft near
the ship was moving away, crowded with passengers and crew. Another smaller
raft, apparently overlooked in the confusion, lay on the sloping deck. With it
were a paddle and a canvas cover. He reached the raft and grasped hold of it
just as another lurch of the ship sent him sliding and tumbling into the sea. Under
the water he was disorientated, not knowing which way was up or down. He had
hit the water holding his breath in terror rather than taking a deep breath to
sustain him under water. When he opened his eyes he saw the underside of the
raft against the sky and struck out for the surface.
Chapter
2
As his
head broke the surface of the water, Cedric Asker heard a great crash and the
sound of splintering timber and ripping steel somewhere close in the fog. He
scrambled aboard the raft and tried to paddle toward some voices calling
frantically for help. A massive explosion very close by was followed by a
deathly silence.
He never
heard the voices again.
As he
sat alone in the silent fog, clinging to the small raft, he shivered and prayed
for a miracle.
‘Please,
God? If there really is a God, take me to dry land, anywhere.’
Time
lost all relevance as he sat alone, cold, wet and afraid, on the raft, unable
to see anything but the thick blanket of fog around him. A long time later,
when the fog finally lifted, he saw a raft and lifeboat in the distance. He
called at the top of his voice, waved the paddle, then the canvas, trying to
get their attention. It was useless. They were too far off. The Elingamite was nowhere to be seen. She
must have gone down with the explosion. After a few minutes the fog drifted in
again and Cedric drifted aimlessly in the whiteout for what seemed like hours.
It had been unbearably hot in the engine room. But on the sea it was unbearably
cold. He started to shiver again and he put the canvas around his shoulders to
ease the chill.
He
wondered about Doris; was she alive and warm, or was she dead beneath the
waves. He wished he had stayed with her instead of trying to rescue the old
man.
He would
never see her again.
He
thought about his mother. His earliest memories were of a beautiful young woman
who adored him. They had some wonderful times together and he missed her
terribly when he left Carrathool to go to school in Sydney. After that he only
saw his mother once a year and gradually they grew apart. In a way Granny Ruby,
really his great-grandmother became more like a mother to him. He spent most
weekends with her at Ruby’s Boarding House in Caraher’s Lane. She was the grand
old lady of the Rocks, widely admired and respected, in Sydney’s oldest housing
area.
He
thought about the father he had never known. He had died a long time ago and
his mother had promised to tell him about his father when he was old enough to
understand. But in later years the subject of his father was never raised.
With the
Elingamite gone and seemingly the
passengers and crew too, he was now alone on the sea and he wondered if he too
was about to die. . . .
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