Do You Dare? Fighting Bones Page 4

  ‘If he doesn’t, I’m going to knock him over the head with my new boot,’ said Declan grumpily, watching the guard move up the line. The waiting around had them all on edge.

  ‘I’m a dead man if it doesn’t happen soon,’ said Danny. ‘The bleedin’ trial’s on Saturday and Striker’s planning to kill me in two days.’

  ‘It will happen,’ said Declan, with more certainty then he felt. ‘And this way it gives us one more day to save our meat,’ he added, trying to sound positive.

  ‘A day of rest and prayer is just what we need,’ Col joked. ‘We can ask the heavens to please put Bench to sleep at nine, thank you.’

  As Declan held out his hands to be examined for cleanliness he couldn’t help but laugh.

  That evening, just as they did the night before, the boys rolled out their beds at their separate posts: Declan close to the hearth at the end of the barracks, Seamus and Danny against the walls under the lamps, and Col by the doors. Declan’s heart threatened to leap through his rib cage it hammered so hard.

  He waited as Henry dimmed the lamps and settled into his chair. ‘Come on, Henry . . . you know how much you’d love to sleep . . .’ he whispered softly. It seemed the heavens heard his prayers. After only twenty minutes, Henry’s chin dropped to his chest. This is it, Declan thought.

  When Henry began to snore, Declan sat up and crawled as quietly as he could to the side lamps. He looked across to Seamus and Danny. Each of the boys smothered the lamps beneath their blankets so that the only remaining light came from a single lamp over the doors where Col waited. That way, if Henry wakes it will give us extra time before he discovers we’re gone, thought Declan.

  Silently, Col and Seamus followed Declan as he crossed the barracks to the doors, stepping as carefully as they could over the sleeping prisoners. Col was already working at the lock with the piece of wire. Declan and the boys hunched around him, tense with nerves.

  Col turned the tiny wire in and out of the lock. Please let this work, thought Declan. Please . . .

  Click went the lock, and click again. The noises seemed as loud as the prison bell to Declan, but still nobody stirred in the barracks.

  Click click.

  ‘Done,’ whispered Col.

  Thank God, thought Declan, smothering the last lamp with his blanket.

  Declan pulled open the doors. He waited until Seamus, Col and Danny were out, then stepped through himself. The air was so cold it hurt to breathe. His body tingled; he had never felt more awake. They were going to escape from Point Puer! Danny wasn’t going to be at that workshop where Striker would make his move. Instead they were on the run to Hobart Town.

  Declan looked up at a black sky lit with stars, and a silver moon, half full. How bright and beautiful it was, hanging in the sky. Although Declan knew that it exposed them, he was glad for the light it shed. He gestured for the boys to follow him down to the path that ran behind the Superintendent’s house. A small lamp burned above the door. Declan prayed that nobody would see them as they crept towards the gaol cells where the prisoners from Crim Class were kept. Somewhere inside, Striker was sleeping.

  When they were close enough Declan saw two guards outside the cells. The boys crouched low behind some bushes.

  ‘If we cross they’ll see us for sure,’ whispered Danny.

  Time to go down to the ocean, thought Declan. If we follow the sound of the water against the rocks, we can’t go wrong. ‘Follow me, boys,’ he said. They pushed their way through the scrub, down to the sea, the branches tearing their clothes and whipping at their faces. When they broke through the trees and saw the water, Declan gasped. It glistened in the moonlight, each tiny wave lined with silver. How mysterious and powerful it looked.

  But it seemed Seamus didn’t feel the same way. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘This place gives me the shivers. Let’s keep moving.’

  ‘This way,’ Declan whispered, leading the boys towards the rocks. They clambered across, staying as close to the water as they could. It was hard work. Declan cut his hands on the rocks; the surfaces were jagged and slippery. Soon the rocks became too steep and Declan knew they could go no further. They’d have to head back up the cliff – he just hoped they were past the cells.

  ‘What do you think, Dec?’ whispered Seamus. ‘Are we safe to go back to the path at the top?’

  ‘Got no choice,’ Declan answered.

  The gang headed back up to the slope with Declan at the lead. He kept up a good pace, pushing back branches, his bundle of food gripped in his hand. To his relief, as they neared the top Declan saw they had cleared the gaol. Thank God, he thought, turning to the gang. ‘Now on to the demarcation line,’ he whispered.

  When they were close to the line, Declan saw two guards in the sentry box at the far end. The sentry box closest to the boys stood empty.

  ‘This end’s unguarded,’ Col whispered as they clustered behind some water tanks. ‘Looks like luck is on our side.’

  Maybe this is going to be easier than I imagined, thought Declan. ‘Quick,’ he said. The boys followed him through the scrub at the far end of the line until they were safely on the other side.

  The luck they’d had at the line gave Declan hope and strength. As the boys ran along the path, Declan could hear their panting breath behind him. We can do anything, he thought, as long as we’re together.

  When Declan saw the lights of Port Arthur, he stopped. Ahead of them lay the rambling buildings of the Commandant’s house. Declan was painfully aware of how dangerous the gang’s position was. Any moment they could be seen and caught.

  ‘Which way?’ asked Col.

  ‘The water’s been good to us so far . . .’ said Declan breathlessly.

  ‘The water it is, then,’ said Seamus.

  The boys crept down to the harbour’s edge at the front of the settlement. Convicts had built a wall about five-foot high that ran the full length of the bay’s front. Declan calculated that it was less than a quarter mile to the other side. At the base of the wall were large rocks leading into the water.

  ‘It’s the rocks again, boys,’ whispered Declan. ‘Keep as low as you can and get down in between ’em wherever you can.’

  As carefully and quietly as they could, the gang lowered themselves down the wall and onto the rocks. Climbing across was slow and difficult. Declan had to fight the urge to cry out when he cut his fingers on the oyster shells that lined the rocks. When they were halfway across, Declan almost lost his grip. He could hear singing!

  ‘My heart lies over the sea . . .’ a male’s gruff voice slurred.

  Declan thought the man sounded about ten feet away.

  ‘Drunk as a doorpost,’ whispered Danny.

  ‘With you, my sweet lass from Dun Lea!’

  Col and Danny giggled. Soon, in spite of everything, Declan was trying to stifle his own laughter. ‘Shhhh,’ he warned.

  ‘My sweet bonny lass from Dun Lea!’

  Declan peered up over the bank and saw a military post, where a soldier sat drinking from a bottle. ‘If he sees us, let’s hope he thinks it’s the drink gone to his head,’ he whispered.

  They continued to crawl along the rocks. Just when Declan thought they were safely past the post, the soldier stumbled the ten or so feet down to the water, carrying a small lamp. ‘My heart lies with my sweet bonny lass . . .’

  Declan pressed himself hard against the bay wall. He could hardly breathe. He watched the soldier stand on the bank – dangerously close to where the gang huddled – put down his lamp and let out a long stream into the ocean. If that soldier finds us here, it doesn’t matter how drunk he is, thought Declan, the game will be up.

  ‘With you, my dear sweet lass from Dun LEEEAAAA!’ the soldier sang.

  Suddenly Declan felt himself slipping. He fell against Col who cried out in surprise as he slipped into the water. Just behind Col, a little way back, Declan could make out Danny and Seamus clinging to the rocks in the darkness.

  ‘Who’s there?’ the man slurred a
nd looked down to where Declan and Col were pressed against the bay wall, half submerged in water.

  The man stepped closer, scanning the ocean, eyes narrowed. ‘Too bleedin’ dark,’ he muttered. Declan held his breath as the man raised the lamp that was sitting at his feet. In the soft circle of lamplight, his eyes locked with Declan’s.

  The guard gasped. He staggered and dropped the lamp. Declan saw him raise his gun, pointing the barrel straight at him.

  This is it, thought Declan in horror. It’s over. Just as he was about to raise his hands, Declan saw Danny scramble up the bank. ‘Danny! No!’

  As the guard turned away from Declan, Danny threw himself around the guard’s knees, knocking him off balance.

  ‘What the –?’ The guard stumbled backwards.

  Declan leapt up the bank and grabbed the man’s gun. Then he froze. The gun felt heavy and cold in his hands. The drunken man muttered something Declan didn’t understand, and began to clamber to his feet. But still Declan couldn’t move. What was wrong with him? Suddenly Seamus grabbed the gun from Declan and swung the butt hard down onto the man’s head. He fell heavily to the ground.

  Declan came to his senses. ‘Quick!’ he whispered. ‘Let’s go!’

  ‘He’ll be all right by morning,’ said Seamus, once they’d cleared the light of the Port. ‘He won’t even remember it.’

  I hope he’s right, Declan thought as his body began to shiver. The gang had never attacked a grown man before, and Declan had never held a gun. And surely someone had seen them – or heard the fight? Declan looked back into the shadows as he climbed, but he couldn’t see anybody following. Soon the rocks came to an end. ‘Up to the bush,’ Declan whispered, his voice trembling.

  As they left the shoreline and headed further inland, Declan heard wind in the trees, night birds calling to their mates, and in the distance, the ocean lapping against the cliffs. But even the natural world wouldn’t calm him. ‘Let’s stop here for a minute,’ he said, feeling as if his body would never stop shaking. The boys came in close as their sweat grew cold. Declan could hear Danny’s breathing, loud and ragged, and cursed himself for not paying more attention to his brother. ‘You okay, Dan?’ he asked him.

  ‘Course I’m okay,’ Danny retorted.

  ‘Thought it was the end of me,’ said Declan. ‘I just . . . I couldn’t do anything.’

  ‘It all worked out,’ said Seamus.

  ‘You didn’t need to do anything, Dec. Cripple boy still knows how to fell a drunk,’ said Danny, grinning.

  But Declan knew Danny must be struggling. We’ll just have a few minutes of rest, he thought, so that Danny will have the strength to keep going.

  ‘Thought I was going to get crowned by that soldier,’ Col said. ‘Would’ve stunk like a slops bucket.’

  ‘Whiskey-tainted,’ added Danny.

  Col and Seamus chuckled.

  ‘Better than being shot,’ said Declan bitterly.

  The boys grew silent and Declan felt the night closing around them.

  ‘What now?’ asked Col, his teeth chattering.

  ‘We can’t take the road – somebody might see us,’ said Declan.

  ‘But how will we know where we are if we don’t take the road?’ Col rubbed his hands together for warmth. ‘It’s all trees and bush here.’

  ‘We stay close to the water,’ answered Declan. ‘It will show us the way.’

  ‘What about Eaglehawk Neck?’ asked Col.

  ‘We swim across,’ answered Declan. ‘Just like we planned, remember? But that’s miles away yet.’

  ‘What about the sharks?’ said Danny. ‘It doesn’t matter how good you can swim if you got shark’s teeth planted in your backside.’

  ‘Jeez, you think of everything, don’t you, Danny?’ said Declan.

  ‘I just want to know how we’re meant to get past ’em,’ said Danny.

  ‘We offer ’em jam cakes and tea,’ said Col.

  ‘Forget the sharks, will you? If we get that far we’ll be so damn happy we’ll outswim them,’ said Seamus.

  Declan noticed the boys grow quiet; he knew they were as scared as he was. The night felt heavy.

  ‘Do you think they know we’re missing yet?’ asked Col.

  ‘Not yet. We would have heard something,’ answered Declan.

  ‘Gunshots,’ added Seamus.

  Declan shuddered at the thought.

  ‘Five-thirty wake-up bell they’ll know,’ said Col. ‘And they’ll send a signal from the semaphore station.’

  The semaphore was a high tower built to send signals between Point Puer and Port Arthur. Declan had seen flags raised from the tower to warn of approaching ships – but he’d never imagined that one day it would warn that he was missing.

  ‘Then everybody will be after us,’ said Col.

  ‘And if they catch us, they’ll hang us,’ Danny added.

  Declan got to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Oh yes, let’s, my sweet bonny lass from Dun Lea!’ sang Col.

  Declan pushed his way through the bush, the boys close behind him. Sometimes he could see the road through the trees, its pale sand silvery in the moonlight, then the trees grew too thick and it was hidden again. Declan made sure he could always hear the ocean, even if he couldn’t see it. Ever since he’d arrived at the prison, Declan had resented the ocean – the way it surrounded them on three sides, seething at the base of the cliffs, keeping them prisoners. But now he felt grateful it was there, guiding them to freedom.

  ‘Eeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrch!’

  Declan gasped, stopping in his tracks, the other boys bunching in behind him.

  ‘Mother of God, what was that?’ yelped Danny.

  Declan stared through the dark trees, trying to find the source of the piercing scream. ‘I don’t know,’ he whispered. Was somebody out there?

  ‘Sounded like a woman,’ said Seamus.

  ‘A woman being strangled,’ added Col.

  Declan felt his heart pounding. The boys stood around him, panting with fear. ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘We don’t want nobody to hear us.’

  ‘Eeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrch!’ This time, the scream was followed by the sounds of leaves crackling and rustling. ‘Eeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrch!’

  ‘Jesus help us!’ hissed Col.

  ‘Time to make a run for it?’ Seamus’s voice quavered.

  ‘Don’t move,’ said Declan. In the moonlight he saw a dark shape emerge from behind a tree, rolling over and over across the ground. Declan, stiff with fear, watched as the shape split apart and became two wild bears. Declan saw a white stripe across the chest of one of them. ‘They’re devils,’ he whispered as the shapes ran in different directions, disappearing into the bush.

  ‘If they take a bite from you, you go mad,’ said Danny.

  ‘Bloomin’ hell,’ said Col. ‘Bears that look like dogs that eat people. How are we going to get out of this alive?’

  How are we going to get out of this alive? The question hung over Declan, eerie as the mist that draped the trees.

  Declan’s hands stung from the cuts he’d given himself climbing across the rocks. He was freezing, his legs ached and he was desperately thirsty. He didn’t know how long they had been pushing their way along the coastline, or how far they were from Eaglehawk. He was exhausted. If I feel this bad, imagine how Danny feels, he thought, looking at his brother limping behind him.

  Declan thought back to when they were both small and Danny was sick with polio. He’d had a terrible fever and cramps in his muscles, and called out over and over in his bed. Even though his mother forbade the brothers from going near Danny in case they caught his infection, Declan had snuck into the sick room anyway, and tried to feed Danny sweets from where he was hiding under the bed. His mother was mystified by the sticky lollies she kept finding in Danny’s sweating hands. Miraculously, Declan didn’t get sick. When Danny recovered, the brothers were rarely apart.

  Declan chewed on his lip. Would he ever not fear for his little brother? He looked
up at the sky. He could see that it was changing colour, turning from black to pale grey. It would soon be morning.

  ‘What do you think, Seamus?’ he asked, waiting for his friend to catch up to him. ‘Time to stop?’

  Seamus turned round to look at Col and Danny, bringing up the rear. ‘I think if we don’t stop soon, we’ll drop dead. What are we going to do about water?’

  To Declan’s right was the sea, to his left, dense bush. Everything’s so damp and moist and growing, but we can’t drink any of it! he thought in frustration,

  ‘They’ll most likely find us dead in the forest, trying to lick the leaves,’ joked Col, his voice husky and dry.

  ‘Better than being hung,’ said Danny. ‘Or drowned by Striker.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that!’ Declan snapped.

  ‘If we can’t get a drink soon, I’ll wish I was hung.’ Danny kicked moodily at the ground.

  ‘All right, you boys, take it easy. We’re tired, that’s all,’ said Seamus. ‘It’s time for something to eat. Let’s see if we can find somewhere to rest.’

  They followed Seamus as he pushed his way down to the rocks. Declan felt relieved that someone else was taking over – he was too tired and scared to do anything more himself. He watched Seamus break branches off a scrubby looking tree.

  ‘You boys do the same,’ Seamus ordered.

  Declan and the others broke off more branches as Seamus searched around until he found a place between two rocks that was hidden by a large bush. ‘Under here, boys. Branches down.’

  They crawled in and piled up the branches. Soon the surface covering the rocky ground was soft and thick.

  ‘Welcome to your new bedroom,’ said Seamus, pulling the bushes over the entrance.

  ‘Softer than the pallets full of holes they give us at the prison,’ said Danny.

  ‘Heaven,’ said Col, lying down with a mock sigh.

  ‘Princess Col,’ teased Danny.

  Seamus broke up some of their bread and passed it between them.

  When Declan woke, his mouth was so dry he could barely swallow. The sun was shining in through the spaces between the leaves and branches of the bushes that made their makeshift cave. How long have we been asleep? he wondered. He nudged the others awake before crawling out into the light.