You notice he has a limp now, and wonder if he gained it on the treacherous escape from Macquarie Harbour; and you notice the horse-and-smoke smell of him, something you’ve loved since childhood. You catch a glimpse of his beard under the edges of the handkerchief and notice there’s some grey mixed into the auburn.
The great Captain Shadow does not speak often – just to give orders to his gang while they comb the house for valuables. It seems he doesn’t trust himself to look at you, either, lest his emotions give him away. Yet, just before he and his men leave, he speaks to the master and you can hear the deep flood of longing in his voice, resonating like water under rock.
‘Sir, am I right in thinking you have a wife and a child? If so, you’ll know that whatever we take from you today, you remain free to keep your greatest treasure. If only I could steal my own family back from death and from servitude. This gold and silver I’ve taken from you today is simply our way of making a living – but they were my life. Cherish your family, and treat your servants well, otherwise the Shadow Gang will return. If you force us to come a second time, it will be not to take your trinkets, but your life.’ With that, he unties the master and Mr Reid from their chairs and leaves the room.
You hear the bushrangers galloping away. The lump in your throat subsides, but your whole body feels wobbly and weak.
Mr Tilsome and Mr Reid untie you, Sarah, Molly and Joe. You swear there’s a puzzled, wary look in Mr Tilsome’s eye when he looks at you and says: ‘You’d all best take the rest of the afternoon off, I think. In honour of the oddly poetic Captain Shadow.’
THE SUMMER ROLLS on. The air smells of dry grass, and Molly turns to making salads and cold cuts instead of stews and roasts.
One day, a boy from Bothwell, Reggie Martin, son of the postmaster, comes to the house and calls over the back-garden fence: ‘I have a letter here, for a Miss Ryan!’
You are shocked! It’s the first letter you’ve ever received. ‘Whoever is it from, Reggie?’
‘I’m sorry but I’m not sure, miss. My father asked me to deliver it.’
You can’t read well; you remember learning your alphabet on the boat, but you never went to school. But Sarah was schooled until she was eight or nine years old, and she manages to read it to you. It’s sealed with wax, and the ink on the page is curly and blue, like lichen.
Dear Miss Ryan,
Please excuse my boldness in sending you this letter. The moment I saw you on the rocks in Hobart Town, I was struck not only by your beauty, but by your resemblance to a great hero of mine. This man is my hero not only due to his bravery and love of Ireland, but because of a promise he made to his daughter: a promise to cherish and protect her, to the ends of the earth.
I believe you know the man of whom I speak. Please be assured that he is, for now, safe, and carrying on his usual business. I am in touch with him from time to time.
It my greatest wish that you would be kind enough to meet with me. I would be honoured if there is any way that I may uphold my hero’s promise to his daughter, whom I believe to be a young woman with a courageous spirit and an extraordinary mind.
With the greatest respect,
Lachlan Seamus O’Riordan
You think of the handkerchief, still spotted with Bobby’s blood, in the corner of a drawer in your bedroom … of the young, ginger-haired gentleman who couldn’t look away from you that afternoon on the rocks.
‘LSO,’ you whisper to Sarah. ‘Lachlan Seamus O’Riordan.’
A WEEK AFTER you send your reply, Lachlan arrives at the homestead, introduces himself to the master as a travelling merchant, and then asks for the use of one of his servants that day to wash and fold some large samples of cloth that were damaged when his cart ran off the road on the way to Launceston.
‘The cloth’s just fine,’ murmurs Lachlan in your ear as you ride away together, and he pats the large bundle of fine cloth in the back of his cart. ‘On loan from a friend in Hobart Town. I’ll give one of the pieces to Mr Tilsome as a gift, to thank him for giving me some time in your company, if it pleases you.’
‘Yes, sir,’ you whisper. You wish your knees would stop shaking.
‘Oh, please,’ begs Lachlan, ‘I am not “sir” to you. In fact, I take orders from you, for your father is the most respected Irish nationalist in Van Diemen’s Land – not to mention being the infamous Captain Shadow!’
You laugh, but at the same time feel tears prick at your eyes. ‘I saw him. He robbed us! I only wish we could have had a conversation … that I could see him again.’
‘That’s what he said too,’ says Lachlan. ‘I told him I’d do anything to make it happen – especially if it meant I was able to meet you again. Climb down here and follow me, but be quick – he only has a moment. It’s risky for him, coming back this close to town only a month after the robbery.’
Your heart is pounding in your ears. Long grass crackles under your feet, and you see a small green parrot swoop through the trees in front of you and think of Waylitja.
Lachlan steps on a stick, which cracks and makes you jump. He takes your hand, then leads you down into a stony gully. You hear footsteps approaching from behind a tree, and then there, standing in
