‘When I produced the knife and said I was going to kill Bligh. I had intended to … wanted to, desperately. I’d actually gone to his house, before coming to you. It would have been so easy. At one point he was no more than ten feet away, quite alone and unguarded. But I couldn’t do it.’
Yet the man had murdered, balanced Edward. He stood unmoving by the window, waiting.
When Fletcher looked up at him, his eyes were wet, the barrister saw.
‘I’m frightened of him, Edward,’ moaned the younger man, despairingly. ‘After all these years and all the misery for which he’s been responsible, I’m still terrified of him.’
An atmosphere crowded into the room, embarrassing both of them.
‘I would have so much liked you to meet Isabella,’ said Fletcher, suddenly. He was staring at the ground between his feet, lost in memories, Edward saw.
‘She was so very beautiful,’ he said, softly. ‘So very good and so very lovely …’
His shoulders began to shake. He would cry soon, Edward knew. Usually he managed to prevent the tears until the privacy of his own bedroom.
Bligh had listened with mounting excitement to the Provost Marshal and sat waiting now for the arrival of Atkins. It would provide an example, decided the Governor. He’d bring Macarthur down and show those doubters in London, who found it so easy to criticise from a safe distance of 12,000 miles. The King might be displeased, thought Bligh, recalling Sir Joseph’s letter. But he wouldn’t remain so once the corruption in the colony was smashed.
And it would be destroyed, by the move he could now make against Macarthur. It was exactly what he needed, an incident in which he would triumph. And he would triumph, he determined.
He picked up Sir Joseph’s letter from his desk, idly rubbing his finger along the edge. Even Sir Joseph was turning against him, he decided, worriedly. That was very obvious from the tone of the letter. And the whispers had started against him again in London, he knew, turning to Betsy’s correspondence that had arrived in the same vessel from England. But he’d show them. William Bligh wasn’t beaten yet. Far from beaten.
Atkins flurried in, nervously jerking his head between the two men. The strength of the traders’ opposition was worrying the Advocate-General, Bligh knew. Now the man regretted the endorsement he had so readily shown to Bligh’s reforms, placing him on what he now thought to be the weaker side.
‘We’ve got him,’ declared Bligh, eagerly. ‘We’ve got Macarthur.’
Atkins frowned, suspiciously. Bligh was too keen on an open clash, he felt.
‘Remember the disappearance from the penal colony of Hoare, the murderer?’ demanded Bligh.
Atkins nodded.
‘He escaped on the Parramatta, a Macarthur boat,’ revealed Bligh, triumphantly.
‘You sure?’ said Atkins, apprehensively.
‘The master and the crew openly depose it,’ said Gore, offering the documents. ‘He’s free, in Tahiti.’
‘And Macarthur himself provided the declaration under the terras of the penal code, asserting his ship had been searched before sailing. So he’s responsible for aiding the escape of a wanted man.’
‘Technically,’ admitted Atkins, uncomfortably. ‘Nothing more than a technicality.’
‘He’s refused to provision the impounded vessel, forcing the crew to break the law by disembarking,’ added Bligh. ‘That’s an offence that carries a jail sentence. Legally we can remove the man from any position of influence in the colony. We’ve won!’
Atkins nodded, uneasily. Bligh was definitely manoeuvring the confrontation, decided the Advocate-General. Manoeuvring it, without properly considering the implications. Bligh needed something to demonstrate his authority, Atkins agreed. But this wasn’t it. The merchants hated him. And the regiment were as near rebellion as he had ever known because their rum and women trade had been taken from them. Bligh couldn’t possibly win, even if Macarthur were removed.
‘It’s not sufficient,’ he cautioned.
‘Of course it is,’ rejected Bligh. ‘The law has been broken, by Macarthur. So he’ll be brought to trial.’
‘But he won’t accept my jurisdiction,’ warned Atkins. ‘There’s a civil dispute between us, over a trifling debt. It would give him grounds for refusing to accept me as his judge.’
‘Rubbish,’ swept aside Bligh, swollen with the conviction of his success.
Atkins was a coward, decided Bligh. A miserable coward, trying to evade his responsibilities. Governor King had mentioned some money transaction between the two men, he remembered, but his recollection was that it had been settled. Atkins was trying to resurrect an old score as an excuse to avoid involvement and ingratiate himself with the other faction. But it wouldn’t work. He wasn’t going to be denied the opportunity of