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Chapter 1. Gift horses

Chapter 1. Gift horses

Chapter 1. Gift horses

1888 Port Campbell Australia

Innis noticed the straw coloured twine amongst the wreckage

of the ship. In the sheltered inlet, he watched it eddy and swirl

around the hands and feet of the dead.

It caught on his rolled up sleeves and bare legs, and it followed

in his wake as he and Florry dragged the bodies of the passengers

and crew ashore.

Since arriving at first light he’d had a growing sense of unease.

Standing in the shallows he scanned the cliffs above and the

track that led down to the beach. There was nothing out of place

- except the bodies and debris that he and Florry had already

brought ashore, and picked through for anything of value.

His Nain had been fond of saying that the guilty flee when no-one

pursues. He smiled at the thought of the sour old crow - but even

repeating her words to himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that

he was being watched.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

*

Glenample sheep station was a large pastoral holding surrounded

on three sides by flat, almost featureless land. To the south, it was

bordered by nearly 50 miles of unbroken sea cliffs, and the wild ocean

of the Bass Straight.

It was at Glenample station that Innis met Florry.

Innis had been part of a group of travelling stonemasons who'd

made additions to the homestead and built outhouses on the property.

Mr.Gibson, the station owner, had offered him a job as a general

roustabout, and he'd stayed when the others had moved on to the

goldfields for work.

Florry was a jack of all trades. He worked seasonally across the

district. He’d worked on boats in the straight, and along the coast as

a whaler and a sealer until a badly broken leg put him ashore in the

nearby settlement of Port Campbell.

Both were from Cornwall and had become fast friends almost as

soon as they'd met.

Mr. Gibson called them his pair of Cornish bastards.

*

They were mending a fence when a stockman rode up.

"Where are you off to George?" Innis asked.

The stockman was on his way to the telegraph office at the

nearby railway siding. "Mr. Gibson is sending a message to

Port Melbourne about the shipwreck."

Florry put down the roll of fencing wire he was carrying and

wiped his hands. "What shipwreck would that be then?"

"Off Mutton Bird island," George said. "maybe five or so miles

from the homestead."

The day before he and another stockman had been mustering

when they came across a survivor from the shipwreck walking

along the cliff path.

A search party had been organized and another survivor had

been found in a cove below.

"Where are they now?" Innis asked.

"Both of them are resting up at the homestead. Mrs. Gibson

is looking after them."

As George rode off, Florry turned to Innis. "If we get an early

start and go further east along the coast, we could get a full

day of going through whatever washes up before anyone

comes looking."

Florry smiled.

"They don’t call this the shipwreck coast for nothing."

*

The next day they arrived before dawn on a clifftop that

overlooked a series of sheltered coves and inlets.

In the early light Innis was astonished to see a glowing

green cloud in the current. "What do you make of that?"

Florry spat on the ground and scowled. "It's as bad an omen

as I’ve ever seen." Then he laughed and clapped Innis on

the shoulder.

"Don't be getting spooked. I’ve seen it before. It's phosphorous

matches that were bound for the mines."

Innis said nothing. He watched the glowing cloud start to fade

as the sun began to rise. Something felt out of place, but he

couldn’t say what it was. There was enough light to walkj the

track down from the clifftop to the shoreline.

"Stop faffing around Innis, gift horses don’t wash up every day."

*

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