Hell's Fire - By Brian Freemantle Page 0,102

I’ve got more to lose than to gain by disclosing it.’

Edward nodded, accepting the man’s honesty.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘What will become of your brother?’ asked Macarthur, unexpectedly sympathetic.

‘I don’t know,’ confessed Edward. ‘I wish I did.’

Fletcher’s inability to comprehend the meaning of the court hearing that afternoon had worried him, Edward realised. His brother had obviously not recovered as fully as he had believed.

‘Take him away from this place, quickly,’ advised Macarthur. ‘Botany Bay corrupts people, turns them into animals. Take him away, somewhere safer.’

Edward rose to leave.

‘I intend to,’ he said. ‘As quickly as possible.’

‘And try not to be too self-critical for whatever you’ve done.’

Edward turned at the door.

‘Is it obvious?’ he asked.

‘Just go home,’ said Macarthur, avoiding the question. ‘Go home and try to make William Bligh a less important part of your life … yours and Fletcher Christian’s.’

Major Johnston positioned himself at the centre of the table in the officers’ mess, nervously irritating the edge of his tunic with his fingers. He was doing the correct thing, he told himself. He’d be upheld when London learned what had happened: he knew he would.

His face still hurt, where he had fallen the previous evening. He reached up, gently feeling the bruise.

The officers who had formed the court that had decided the unsuitability of Atkins to sit in judgment upon Macarthur were grouped immediately to his right and left, and facing him on the far side was every leading businessman in Sydney. Macarthur was seated directly opposite, unable to control the triumphant smile that constantly hovered in the corners of his mouth.

‘It’s clear what’s got to be done,’ he prompted.

Johnston scuffed his chair, uneasily. This was different from making Governors’ lives so uncomfortable that they sought voluntary retirement.

‘I don’t like it, sir,’ protested the soldier.

‘Listen,’ commanded Macarthur.

There was noise from every direction outside the barracks, occasionally bursting out into bouts of jeering. Macarthur’s men were serving rum, free, guessed Johnston.

Macarthur swept his hand around the table.

‘There’s every civic leader in the colony here behind you,’ he said.

‘I’m not convinced we’re faced with open insurrection,’ rejected Johnston. It would be his career and reputation on the line if this went wrong, thought Johnston, not Macarthur’s.

‘We are,’ insisted Macarthur. ‘That’s plain for everyone to see. If the settlers start moving in to support Bligh, it’ll be open battles in the streets. It’s known he’s dispatched Gore to muster help.’

‘There’s no sign of it arriving,’ protested Johnston.

‘Not quite true, sir,’ disputed Captain Kemp. He’d grown very sure of himself since the court hearing that morning. ‘From the soldiers I have on the outskirts of the town there are indications that some are coming into the city. It could be bad, by morning.’

There was a fresh burst of shouting from outside and Macarthur moved his head towards it.

‘Order’s broken down,’ he insisted. ‘None of your soldiers would support Bligh. You wouldn’t yourself. And none of the traders will. And if Bligh is still free when the settlers gather, you’ll have two opposing armies. There’s only one course open to you.’

‘Martial law?’ queried Johnston, hopefully.

‘That,’ agreed Macarthur, the smile registering quickly. ‘And more. You’ll have to appoint yourself Governor-General. And arrest Bligh.’

‘I’ve already signed the warrant for your release,’ complained Johnston. ‘I’m not sure I’ve the power to do even that.’

‘It’s too late for those doubts,’ said Macarthur, briskly. He stared around the table, enlisting support. ‘Anybody who feels differently from the way I do?’

The civic leaders shuffled among themselves. There were several mumbles of ‘we’re with you’ and a lot of head nodding. Johnston looked around him, apprehensively. Everyone of importance in the colony was there, he tried to reassure himself. John Blaxland, Macarthur’s partner … James Mileham … Gregory Blaxland … Nicholas Bayly … Thomas Jamison … it was all powerful support. But what they wanted him to do was frightening.

‘What if Bligh resists?’ he asked, worriedly.

‘Resists what?’ mocked Macarthur. ‘A troop, nearly 1,000 strong, against a Government House guard of about twenty men and they doubtful. Don’t be silly.’

‘I don’t want killing,’ said Johnston.

Again there was the flicker of excitement from Macarthur as he realised Johnston was accepting the demands.

‘Our overthrow of Bligh must be lawful,’ demanded the soldier, suddenly. They all stared at him, bewildered by the contradiction.

‘I must have a written petition to usurp his office,’ announced Johnston, trying to clarify himself. He should have used the same excuse with Macarthur as he had with Bligh and insisted he was too ill to come into town, he decided. Only