Redemption - Leon Uris [139]
Part Four
That Wild
Colonial Boy
48
Rory Larkin had confused himself grandly. When one contemplates the unknown and is about to set sail into it, he conjures up certain images accompanied by certain sensations. As the images became stripped by reality, Rory found himself dangling in a strange place. The unknown was not unfolding as his mind’s eye had seen it.
After Conor’s death at Lettershambo Castle in Ireland, Rory had a clean rationale for bolting New Zealand. He became so anxious to get off the South Island and enlist in the army, he could have run atop the water like Jesus.
Then came a jolt, an unexpected reaction. He was unable to say good-bye to Georgia Norman. He certainly had not expected the sudden fierce chill that all but immobilized him. His mind stumbled about trying to understand what was happening.
He stood at her cottage door, dumblike, and saw a peculiar look on her face as well, and he began shaking. When he tried to speak he found himself twisting back tears. He walked back into the parlor and slumped.
“I’ve an idea,” Georgia said quickly. “Why don’t you enlist in Auckland? I’ll go with you on one of the coastal steamers. That way we can have a final fling at sea.”
Smashing idea! Or maybe, commuting a sentence? At any rate, Uncle Wally Ferguson was the man. Wally knew all the captains and half the crews.
Rory pondered with Wally about the chances of the Squire chasing him down. He was still several months shy of twenty-one and a member of an essential wartime industry. No, Liam Larkin would not run after his son. It was a matter of stiff-spined pride. He’d not look for Rory to bring him back, nor would he wish him well.
This journey had been on Rory’s mind long before the war. It would eventually find its way to Ireland. The name Larkin entering Ireland was bound to set off alarms.
Eight years back, a certain Horace Landers owned land adjacent to Liam Larkin’s growing sheep station. When the price was right, the Squire acquired it and Landers retired in England. Rory had grown up with the Landers kids and knew their kitchen as his own. If and when there were future inquiries about Rory’s origins, he felt he could easily deal with them by using the name of the departed Landers family.
The idea of the steamer to Auckland was filled with excitement and mystery and would give Rory some space to examine his conflicting sentiments.
The once small but opulent fleet of passenger boats only did an overnight to Wellington these days. When the Wellington-Auckland railroad opened in ’09, most travelers opted for the speedier nineteen-hour overland route.
Uncle Wally did have just the boat. The Taranaki was a coastal freighter with special passenger accommodations for four nights at sea, and it just happened to be in port. The old triple-screw steam turbine held the Lord Nelson Suite, the finest high-Victorian accommodation afloat in these waters. Once a man left Christchurch booked into the Lord Nelson, it was not necessarily with his wife. As the sheepmen prospered, the Auckland run was made idyllic, anonymous, and pricey…with service such that guests would not have to leave their staterooms. Privacy was assured so that those who wished were the first to board and the last to debark.
Mr. and Mrs. R. Landers were slipped onto the Taranaki several hours before general boarding and were whisked to and ensconced in the Lord Nelson Suite.
Even the strongest of lovers who love one another half of forever, like Rory’s mom and dad, are overtaken by a repetition, a pattern of steady comfort, a constant value, a level of satisfaction. If they are smart enough, they can reignite when a drift starts.
For Rory Larkin, who was young but wise in the ways of women, some were more exciting than others, but each adventure had a sameness to it…the hunt…the victory…the escape. If you stay too long, he learned, the very thing that brought you together starts to pull you