A year has gone by since I first crossed the boundary line of plot 39. The fields cleared. The house almost finished. Me no longer a convict, no longer a slave. Have time to sit, to listen as the noisy cockatoos settle into sleep, leaving it quiet enough for me to hear the water bubbling in the billycan and the frogs way down at the river as they start up them night-time croaking. Enjoy the stillness, waiting for the patoo to wake up, start hooting, calling to him mate. For the old fella to come silently out of the bush for him nightly visit, to sing, sometimes dance, drink rum and share a meal with me, in a land I come to call home. Is a word I never thought would be mine, to use, to taste the joy of it.

And sometimes, after I light up the pipe I fashion from clay, like the one I made in me old life inside the stone walls of Hyde Park Barracks, I reach back in me mind to that little child laying under the breadfruit tree and tell that child the miracle has happened. That even though his life was full up with rock, with stones, with weeds, he becomes free like William the Second, living in a world with a sky that is mostly blue and mostly cloudless.

Acknowledgements

We all come into the world with a little bit of luck, parcelled out to help us along our way. My luck takes the form of wonderful people appearing in my life to mentor and support me when I need it most.

Barry Higman has been there throughout the long research and writing process with his encouragement, wisdom and friendship, and generously gave of his erudite knowledge about plantation life in Jamaica.

The warm-hearted Anne Hickling-Hudson provided advice about the rhythm and sound of the Jamaican dialect.

The delightful Pamela Hewitt, of Emend Editing, encouraged me to play with the language and to enhance the uniqueness of William’s voice.

When I was a student at the Faber Writing Academy, Kathryn Heyman, a brilliant teacher, gave much-needed direction in the early stages of this novel and showed me ‘how deep the rabbit hole goes’ when it comes to the craft of writing. As part of the Australian Writers Mentoring Program, she continued to provide astute feedback to help turn my clutch of chapters into a manuscript.

Sydney Living Museums (SLM) is where it all started. It was there that I discovered West Indians listed on the convict indent database at the heritage-listed Hyde Park Barracks. I received warm encouragement from my colleagues, along with an invaluable subsidy from SLM’s management committee to help me participate in the Novel Writing course at the Faber Writing Academy.

The Royal Australian Historical Society awarded me a grant to undertake research into the transportation of West Indian convicts to the colony of NSW in the 1800s.