Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [124]
Mary could tell from the length of the shadows outside the window that it was about five in the afternoon when the gaoler unlocked the door of her cell. He was swarthy-skinned, with almond eyes, and he said something unintelligible to her, beckoning for her to follow him. Holding Emmanuel in her arms, and taking Charlotte by the hand, she was finally taken to Wanjon.
He was in one of the upper chambers of the Castle, a gloomy, cool room which presumably was his office for along with a desk there was a lamp and books on shelves, and many personal items, like a painting of a woman who was perhaps his wife, and a snake made of beads adorning a wooden bowl of fruit.
The white jacket Wanjon had been wearing the previous time she met him was slung on the back of his chair, his white shirt was crumpled and he smelled of sweat. Mary had thought him very personable and pleasant at that first meeting, but now he looked tired, hot and irritated. He was small and stout, with jet-black hair slicked down with oil and parted in the middle. She assumed from his name, almond eyes and coffee-coloured skin that he was native to this country, but he must have been well educated, probably in Holland or even England, as he could speak both English and Dutch fluently, along with the local language.
He began to ask her questions about the whaling ship: how many hands there were, the master’s name, where the ship was registered, and the last port they’d called into before the ship was wrecked.
Everything except where the ship was registered had been rehearsed by them all back in the cutter. But even as Mary began to spill out that the master was from Rio de Janeiro, his name was Marcia Consuella, there were eighteen hands, and they’d sailed out of Cape Town, she knew none of it would stand up to close scrutiny. When Emmanuel began to cry, she hoped that Wanjon would be irritated enough to give up.
Sadly, the only effect it had was to make him stop wasting any more time and come out with what he really believed.
‘This is all lies, Mary,’ he said, getting up and pacing up and down the room, his hands behind his back. ‘You were not on a whaler. You have never been on a whaler. You stole the boat back in New South Wales. You are escaped prisoners.’
Mary jogged Emmanuel up and down in her arms as she protested he was badly mistaken. And it was at that point that he informed her Will had told him everything.
It took Mary some time to come to terms with the shock. She had asked the guard earlier if her husband was being held here, and he’d said he wasn’t. Of course the guard had only a word or two of English, and her knowledge of his language was about the same, yet he appeared to understand what she asked. Will stood out in Kupang because of his size and blond hair, and Mary was sure that if he was in the Castle, everyone would know. She’d begun to think he might have made good the threat he’d come out with two nights ago and signed on a ship.
‘My husband, though it grieves me to admit it, likes to brag,’ she said wildly. ‘Perhaps he thought that was a more exciting story to tell than the truth.’
‘I have seen the log he kept,’ Wanjon responded wearily.
It was all Mary could do not to scream when she heard that, for she had begged Will to destroy the log, even before they arrived here.
‘This is all somewhat embarrassing for me,’ Wanjon went on as he continued to pace around the room. ‘You see, but for the arrival of Captain Edwards, I would have put you all on board the very next ship bound for England. But Captain Edwards wanted to know more about you all, so I had to bring in your husband and he told me everything.’
‘Will peached on us?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Peached?’ Wanjon frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Told on us. Turned King’s evidence,’ Mary said.
‘Yes, he told on you,’ Wanjon nodded. ‘Some men have no loyalty when they think they can save their own skin.’
Mary broke down then, she