“Governor!” Traill said brightly, touching the brim of his hat in polite deference.
Phillip gave a courteous nod before addressing them. “I understand there is some misunderstanding regarding this latest batch of brigands and ne’er-do-wells. I’ll thank you gentlemen to leave off this futile disagreement and let me deal with the matter. Reverend, there are men in the second to last tent that require the Lord’s services.”
Rev Johnson gave the scene one last look of contempt before acknowledging the Governor’s order with a curt nod. “I shall attend to them.”
*
“Charming man,” Traill noted to the reverend’s back. “Highly deluded chap, though I daresay it a result of this scorching weather.”
“That is quite enough, Mister Traill,” Phillip quipped. “I do not expect you to comprehend the affairs of this state as you have been on a long journey. As it stands, I have direct responsibility for a colony bordering on starvation and severe lack of supplies. Not to mention difficulties with the natives.”
“The savages with their sticks?” Traill laughed, “Governor, if I may—”
“You may not,” Phillip snapped. “What you will do is get these poor souls off my beach and into the sea. Let the ocean be their resting place and let us hope they take whatever disease that took their lives with them.”
“Mighty difficult to say what it was, sir.”
“Indeed,” Phillips replied. “I see wounds on this man’s wrists. This one’s neck is still bleeding. I doubt whether cruelty can be classed as a disease.”
“Now see here. I’ve just about had enough of these accusations!” Traill puffed out his chest and began to turn a dark shade of red. “Inspect these two, Governor Phillip. I ask you to find a single blemish on them. Yet there they are, as cold as a new morning.”
Against his better judgement, Phillip walked past corpses, partially unclothed, frail, and brittle as skeletons, to examine the two Traill had indicated; a man and a woman, fully dressed and in pristine condition. Death had not diminished the young woman’s delicate, supple features, her raven red hair splaying beautifully across the white sands that were nearly as pale as her skin.
Phillip extended the tips of his fingers to tenderly brush her jaw. The contact, even in this heat, reminded him of winter in England. “God has welcomed back one of his angels,” he whispered to himself sadly, before straightening. “These two look as though they had only fallen this morning. What sort of disease does this? What do you make of it?”
Phillip looked to Captain Traill, whose attention was on something behind the Governor. Phillip turned to see two natives approaching the scene. They were the colour of over-baked bread, of equal height. They were not overly muscular but were by no means scrawny and each man carried a sharpened spear at their side.
“Excuse me, please,” he called to Traill, and strode forward slowly, matching the natives’ movements so as not to appear threatening. He extended his hands outward in greeting, but the natives moved past him as if he was not even there. Everything around Phillip came to a stop, and he watched in confusion as the natives closed in on the exact spot Phillip had just vacated: standing over the woman.
Phillip carefully circled them from behind, coming to stand next to them as the two stared down at the lovely, cold form that lay before them. One spoke to the other, a harsh sound (a question perhaps) in the native tongue. The other replied in what seemed like agreement. The first began to recite a low chant and raised his spear as if readying to plunge it into the already-dead woman’s chest. Then with a loud pop, he was on his back, blood pooling on the sands—the result of the bullet Traill had just placed through his skull.
“Stop! Stop this!” Phillip cried.
But it was too late. The other native charged at Traill and also fell flat onto the sands a second later, shot in the back by one of Traill’s crew.
Phillip scowled at the smile Traill wore as he finished reloading the lead ball into his pistol. Phillip pointed his own weapon directly at his face before Traill could cock it.
“I said stop.” Phillip seethed.
“You wish him to die slowly then?”
Phillip held in a breath. The reverend was right about all this inhumanity. He could not allow it to continue. More senseless death at the worst possible time. What made it worse was the native’s pathetic cries at his feet. Death approached him, and yet he was determined to scream out, reaching for the body of the woman, what one could only imagine were curses. No, it was something else. Warnings?
Phillip’s pistol shot echoed around the cove, bringing an unearthly silence to the surroundings and putting the poor soul out of his misery.
“Jolly good show, Governor. Nothing like a bit of good ol’ fashioned authority of His Majesty to keep the riffraff in line, eh?”
Governor Phillip stowed his pistol, looking down at the man he had shot. “These men did not need to die. Perhaps you were not responsible for the corpses here, but you were responsible for this. Take the time you need to supply your vessel, and then I insist you leave. Dispose of these before nightfall.”
Traill looked around for any able bodied convict and ordered stones to be brought forward, to weigh down the all the bodies. “I would think, with your permission, that the sweet plum here deserves a burial? Your reverend could perform some ceremony? She clearly does not have any sickness the colony should concern itself with?”
“Very well,” Phillip answered, eager to have the conversation end. “Do what you must and do it quickly. Though I wish I knew why the indigenous people looked so…troubled over her.”
“I wouldn’t be so concerned m’lord. Beauty such
