Matilda's Freedom Read Free Page A

It’s getting late.’
    Slipping a coin into the boy’s grubby hand, Kit smiled kindly down at him and took up her bags. The kid doffed his cap and ran off into the seething mass of humanity lining the foreshore. Since speech was virtually impossible, he nodded in the direction of the gangplank and, with Matilda at his side, made his way through the throng to the quayside.
    Accessible to the quay by a steeply sloped plank, Fenella ducked and bobbed with every wave that passed. Rope handles, which were looped and attached at intervals to uprights on the gangplank, waved in the wind. Her breath caught as she realised she would be expected to walk up the narrow space to go aboard.
    She slipped her coat over her shoulders and tucked her reticule firmly under her arm so her hands would be free. The wind buffeted against them, whipping her hair across her face. Grasping the ribbons of her bonnet tightly in her fingers, Matilda stepped on to the gangplank. The walkway bounced and swayed, and then dipped as Kit followed her, but after a few steps she found it no more difficult than crossing the fallen tree that spanned the creek at home. As she reached the top, she jumped down easily onto the deck.
    It was crowded, but Kit managed to find them somewhere to sit and then disappeared below to stow their luggage. Matilda gazed around at the seething mass of activity.
    With twilight quickly descending, the strange outlines of the huge paddle wheels cast an almost cage-like shadow across the deck and filled her mind with her father’s stories of his tortuous trip to Australia. No, she would stay up here; nothing this side of hell would get her below decks. She shuddered, rubbing her wrists as she imagined the cold pull of manacles against her tender skin.
    ‘Are you certain you wouldn’t rather be below decks? You might be able to get some sleep.’ Kit appeared beside her, looking so in control, so tall. His black hair provided a contrast to the pale skin of his face. From his time in Europe, she presumed.
    ‘No, I’m certain, but thank you, Kit. I’m sure it’s very crowded. I’ll be quite happy up here.’ Smiling, she accepted the blanket he had shaken out and placed on her knees.
    ‘This might help a little when it gets darker.’
    ‘Again, thank you.’ Matilda glanced over the deck. ‘I’ve never seen a ship like this before.’
    ‘She’s an iron paddle steamer. Sticking to a timetable is easier when you have the option of steam or sail, so they’re used quite a bit now for travel up and down the coast and on the inland rivers. She was built in Liverpool about ten years ago and has only just started doing this run. Before that she did a number of voyages from Melbourne to Hobart but she wasn’t really suited for that distance. This is much more her mark.’
    ‘I suppose it is important for a ship to have reliability and speed, but this steamer seems nowhere near as romantic as the schooners I’ve seen or those tea traders flying across the ocean, skimming and swooping like a bird.’
    ‘But you have to be impressed with the power of her engines. Two cylinders, one hundred and ten horsepower—not as good as some of the machines we saw in Paris but exciting nonetheless.’ Kit’s words brought a sparkle to his eye, and she couldn’t help but share his enthusiasm.
    ‘Had you not mentioned that you’d brought back some machinery from Paris for your farm?’
    ‘Yes, I did, and I’m thrilled with it. It’s an ingenious device—an American mowing machine. It has cutting blades that move from left to right in a rapid motion and can cut grass or lucerne, or any other crop.’ With his long fingers splayed out in front of him, he imitated the action of the blades. ‘I can’t wait to get it home. The device will be a huge saving of labour and will help in the preparation of the area in which I intend to plant to my vines. I’m planning to eventually extend the vineyards out to twenty-five acres and will take