‘Everyone down,’ said Argyle, and we sat like spellbound children, peering out through the scuppers. My father looked bewildered, his gift for hearing and feeling of no help to him now. Soon enough the brig came around the southern end of the island, three miles or more from us. They were under full sail, racing, not searching.

‘They think we’ve gone on around Cape Barren,’ said the doctor.

My father addressed Tarenorerer with the question we all had: ‘What have you done, that these people are searching for you?’

She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes.

‘What have I done? Hah! Let’s see. What have I done…’

She spread her long fingers on the timbers of the deck and counted them off. ‘Well, I never put a ring around a woman’s neck, see? Never chained her. Never sold no woman to sealer men, took her way from ’er country. I never made nobody work on the birding for no money, never had my way with another body against their will. Lotta things I never done.’

‘Why are they so angry?’ my father persisted.

She glared at him, realised the futility of it.

‘I been spearin their sheep,’ she laughed. ‘Poor sheepies, fuck em—just take the kidney fat an leave em. That riles em up. Took some guns…Point a gun at us, some time you gonna get a gun pointed at you. You wadjella all very tough an mighty when you holdin the gun. Not much good when you lookin up the barrel.’

Connolly spoke up: the first time I could remember him ever interjecting in a conversation.

‘Why are you sayin you all the time? I didn’t do it.’ He pointed at the rest of us. ‘This lot never done it.’

Again, she flared. ‘Not your problem, eh? Some other fella!’ She scoffed and shook her head. ‘Nobody ever done it, but it’s gettin done somehow.’

I peered through the scupper again, and I could see the ship passing by to the south of us, heading north-east around Cape Barren. The master wanted to wait, to ensure our pursuers continued on their course. I asked to use the jolly-boat—I wanted to be away from the confines of the vessel—and I helped my father into it. The master said only that we were not to venture too far on foot, in case we had to make a clean exit. ‘And don’t stand on the ridge: keep the hill behind you.’

The sun was up warm and bright now, but I felt cold with dread. Connolly lowered us and I rowed the handful of strokes from the Moonbird to the apex of the V-shaped bight. On a small crescent of sand, I nudged us ashore and helped my father out again. He said nothing all the while.

‘Shall we walk a little?’ I asked him. He grunted his assent.