defiant now. ‘Why don’t you leave?’
Atkins hurried head down from the room, through a line of laughing, jeering people, lips quivering with emotion.
‘Were you right?’ questioned Fletcher Christian, to his brother.
Edward stared after the Advocate-General.
‘There,’ he said, his voice soft, ‘go the hopes of William Bligh.’
And the last of my self-respect, he added.
‘I can’t believe that Bligh has been bested,’ refused Fletcher, shaking his head.
‘Won’t come!’ echoed Bligh, outraged.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ apologised Gore, uncomfortably. ‘He says he had an accident disembarking from his carriage last night and is too unwell to leave his bed.’
Another coward, thought Bligh. Johnston was so scared he was prepared to hide in a nightshirt rather than obey his sworn duty to uphold the law. He’d have him court-martialled. He’d have the man shipped back to England and dismissed his commission. Enemies everywhere. All against him. A conspiracy, nothing less. Obeying the law, that’s all. Why didn’t he get any support in enforcing the law?
‘He is bruised, sir,’ offered Gore, hopefully. ‘All down the right side of his face. And his right leg appears very stiff.’
‘What’s the truth of the matter?’ demanded Bligh.
Gore shifted, disconcerted at informing upon another officer.
‘I gather he was drunk last night and fell upon arriving home.’
Bligh jerked his head, exasperated. He had no military backing, he accepted. Or civil support, either. His only following was among the settlers, straggled away in the outback. All alone, he thought. As always.
‘It’s very worrying, sir,’ offered Gore, guessing the other man’s thoughts.
At that moment the study door thrust open and Atkins bustled in, wet-faced and breathless.
‘They ejected me from my own court,’ he complained, like a spoiled boy who’d lost his cricket bat because he’d insisted on first innings. ‘They laughed at me and let Macarthur read out a long prepared statement …’
‘Is Macarthur free?’ snatched Bligh, realising the significance.
‘Not yet,’ said Atkins, slumping uninvited into a chair. ‘But he will be, within the hour.’
‘Oh, my God,’ said Bligh, quietly.
‘You’ve already manipulated a court when you didn’t have to,’ criticised Edward Christian. ‘You don’t have to do anything more. Let the authorities in London decide the matter.’
Macarthur shook his head, defiantly. It was very hot in the cell below the court-room and both men were sweating.
‘For God’s sake, man,’ Macarthur yelled to the jailer. ‘Hurry with that release order.’
The man was as implacable as Bligh, determined the lawyer, looking at the merchant. Or as Edward himself had once been. But not any more. Please God, he thought, let not what was building up here end in bloodshed. He’d condoned every other illegality and he didn’t want that.
‘Bligh’s thrown out a challenge,’ repeated Macarthur. ‘One of us must be faced down.’
‘He is the Governor-General,’ reminded Edward Christian. ‘No matter how clumsily he’s carried out his instructions. You can’t openly oppose him.’
Macarthur jerked his head to the hubbub outside.
‘There’ll be an insurrection before day-break,’ he said, confidently. ‘Everyone who has had his livelihood taken away by that damned man is just waiting for the signal to storm the Governor’s mansion.’
‘Don’t give it, then,’ instructed the lawyer, refusing to pander to the man’s charade. ‘You control what’s happening out there in the streets. We both know that. If you tell them to disperse and go, then they’ll do so.’
Macarthur shook his head, smiling.
‘It would give Bligh time to recover,’ he said. ‘I can’t afford that.’
‘I was prepared to guide you on matters of law,’ began Edward, slowly. ‘But what you’re considering now is, in my opinion, openly criminal.’
What right had he to make a judgment like that? thought Edward,
‘So our association ends?’ guessed Macarthur.
‘Yes,’ said Edward. He wondered if he were concealing his apprehension from the other man.
‘You’ve no need to be concerned,’ said Macarthur, smiling up at him from the table.
‘Concerned?’
‘Our contact has been a secret one. And will remain so.’
He paused, as if expecting the lawyer to respond. When Edward said nothing, Macarthur continued: ‘… remain secret … and so will the fact that it was not only with Edward Christian, lawyer, but with Fletcher Christian, mutineer.’
Edward started, as if he had been slapped.
‘I’m surprised you took the risk, even here in Botany Bay,’ criticised the merchant.
‘I regret it, now,’ confessed Edward. ‘It was very stupid … like so many things …’
‘You can be sure I’ll keep my word,’ guaranteed Macarthur. ‘And don’t think there’s anything altruistic about it. If I thought it would bring me some advantage, then I might use it. But to have openly consorted with a mutineer makes me an accessary.