I trust you are now settled aboard the Moonbird, and that you have been provided comfortable quarters. She is a beautiful vessel and will meet your needs.

I must apologise to you for my absences in recent days: my business required me. I have arranged, through Mr Beckwith, for two prisoners of His Majesty to crew the vessel and, in doing so, to provide you with a measure of protection. You may already have found they are spirited lads, but they come well recommended. You have my leave to be firm with them; they are under orders to abide all instruction from you and your father.

The master of the vessel, a Mr Argyle I believe, has been hired directly by Mr Beckwith, and I have not met him. I am informed he has sailed Bass’s Strait many times and knows the waters and their islands to a remarkable degree.

I am informed also that there is a doctor of medicine who has paid for passage with you. His credentials are very impressive although, as with Mr Argyle, I have not had the opportunity to meet him. It is a matter for you—I am unconcerned—if he wishes to collect specimens. If you find that his studies are impeding your progress, I trust you and your father will take the matter up with him.

The vessel should have been generously provisioned. If you find that anything you require is not already present on board, please avail yourself of my credit through Mr Beckwith to obtain it.

Mr Argyle has been instructed to carry small arms. I recommend you acquaint yourself with their use, though I stress once again that I do not ask either of you to endanger yourselves in pursuit of anyone.

Should you find the man who has taken my property, you will have done the families of the missing, and me, a great service. And if that man is the one I believe him to be, you will also have addressed a longstanding grievance in your father’s life.

Be careful, I beg of you. You have my eternal gratitude and admiration for what you are undertaking.

I remain,

Your humble and obedient servant—

Such discordant words. Taken my property? Not ‘extinguished innocent lives’? And the lack of specificity was peculiar. Had Argyle perhaps been given separate sailing orders? This letter said no more than sail down there and see what happens.

A shadow crossed the oblong of sunlight in which I had been reading. I looked up and through the small galley windows I saw my father outside, bent at the waist, his hands feeling their way across the panes, fingertips sticking frog-like on the glass as they memorised everything. His smile was child-like: he radiated purpose and energy.

~

We cast off that evening. The ropes slapped the water and were hauled in by the two convicts, and all that was steady and firm was gone, replaced by the uncertain will of natural forces.