letty bartulin - infamy

7/27/2019 Letty Bartulin - Infamy

1/24


2/24

Copyright Lenny Bartulin 2013

Infamy is a novel that satisfies on every level. Intensely

cinematicimagine Martin Scorsese let loose in Van

Diemens Landit distils the colonial encounter down

to its elemental violence. With vivid characters, deep

psychological understanding and symphonic plotting,

it drew me in so completely that it was a shock to find

out that this is a work of the imagination. Bartulin

has made fiction stranger, and more compelling, than

truth. A Tassie devil of a book.

Malcolm Knox, author ofThe Life


3/24

1

1

Theyd been on the trail of Ernesto de las Casas and his crew,

three days upriver out of Dangriga and thinking about pausing

in the shade, when an arrow struck William Burr in the shoulder

and nearly knocked him out of the canoe. Natives. He recovered

and pulled his two pistols, fired loose at a stand of logwood and

fern, what the hell, some kind of courage: but four shots down

from the Werner double-barrels and nothing but big holes in the

air. The Creoles in the three canoes started paddling for their

lives as small yellow arrows burst out of the riverbank, thwacking

into the canoe and catching arms and legs, men crying out. Burr

spilled his caps, unable to reload. He reached for a musket, butsaw it was lying in a puddle of water in the bottom of the damn

canoe. Another arrow smacked him in the hip and he howled,

grabbing at his side. More continued to fly, zipping like mad

insects through the air. Then, just as they were pulling clear of

the range, the Creole behind him swung his paddle up out of the

water as a shield; it caught Burr real good, right at the base of his

skull. He managed to stay in the canoe, but didnt get to see how

the whole thing turned out.


4/24

2

L e n n y B a r t u l i n

When he opened his eyes next, it was the craggy face of Ethan

Hall above him, former surgeon on the Surprise. He now operated

a string of river catchments for the loggers, up and down the

coast of British Honduras. He was sixty-five years old and had a

twenty-two-year-old Honduran wife.

The old man said, Might be it now, son, far as luck. He held

up a bottle of aguardiente, the rough Brazilian brandy, said, Best

if you drink this.Burr drank half the bottle, then bit the leather strap of a

musket while Ethan Hall tore the arrows from his shoulder and

hip. For a week he recovered in the wooden hut at the rear of

Halls property, where the mother-in-law used to live until Hall

couldnt stand it any longer. Burr dozed and sweated, burning

sun slicing through gaps in the boards and throwing lines over

the dirt floor, tired as a hundred men and melancholy, too. Hecontemplated his future without conclusion. Then the letter from

McQuillan arrived, forwarded on from Belize Town.

Willie Boy,

One thousand acres of prime grazing pasture on the Coal River, Van Diemens

Land, if you want it. Reward from our old friend Lieutenant Governor Arthur

(Colonel Holier Than Thou), who appears thwarted in his ability to capture an

escaped felon and requires your able assistance. Has a notion in his head that

you might know what youre doing.

I pray, laddie, this letter finds you among the living.

John McQuillan, Esq.

Hobart Town, Van Diemens Land

He hadnt heard from John McQuillan in at least a year or more.


5/24

3

Infamy

Timing might be right, son, the surgeon said, reading over

Burrs bandaged shoulder. Hed noticed other scars on the boys

body, too: one a musket ball that had entered above his other hipand straight out behind. Maybe resuscitate your luck.

Burr stared at the letter, said, Think they got hostile natives

in Van Diemens Land?

No idea, Ethan Hall said. But Ill hope not for ye.

Major John McQuillan was ex-cavalry, had ridden with the Scots

Greys at Waterloo. When Burr met him in 1823 he was a mahogany

trader down in Belize Town, also an adviser on military matters

for the British Honduran administration, and a local magistrate,

too. Burr was on trial for threatening an officer of the Crown

in public. The man was drunk and had stepped into the path of

Burrs palomino, which he proceeded to strike with an open hand.

Burr had dismounted and handled the situation with the blade

of his Spanish sabre, placing the point on the officers neck, and

asking the officer if he wished to take the matter further. The

cut was small, barely worth the dab of a handkerchief, though it

did bleed a little into the mans stiff military collar. McQuillan

disliked the officer arrogant and assuming a class solidarity

and he dismissed the charges. He offered Burr employment withhis timber concern.

Burr said, Im no slave driver.

McQuillan removed his robes in a small alcove off the court-

room. Neither am I.

You pull the logs yourself?

My workers wear no chains, laddie. Theyre fed and clothed

and dry. Emancipation is only a matter of time.

So why do you need me?


6/24

4


McQuillan smiled, poured good Jamaican rum into two glasses

and held one up for Burr. He said, For the pirates.

There was cedar and redwood, the odd haul of logwood, used for

dye in the wool factories of England and on the Continent, but

it was the mahogany everybody wanted. Swietenia mahagoni. Rich,

reddish-brown and beautiful to work, curls creaming easy off the

plane. Mature trees could reach more than one hundred and fifty

feet and were at least a century old. The hauling gangs worked the

dry season starting January, hunting the stand-alone mahogany

through dense forest, then cutting and dragging it back to the

riverbanks, where they dressed it and waited for the rains to flood

and float the giants away. Back-breaking work. The pirates liked

to sail casually in from the Caribbean Sea, slip into the mouth of

the Rio Sibun, or down south at Punta Gorda and the Rio Moho,

send their longboat crews up to help themselves while nobody was

looking. McQuillan gave Burr his dragoon pistols from Waterloo,

.62 calibre and take most of a mans arm off at close range, and

half-a-dozen free Creoles armed with old Spanish muskets that

were reliable if they didnt get wet: true for man and weapon both.

They mainly worked off the coast, moving inland on the rivers

south of Belize Town, all the way down to Dangriga, sometimesstaying out for weeks at a time. The pirates would anchor in the

nooks and bays of the Turneffe Islands, row out from there and

into the forests of the mainland. One year, Burr went miles

up the Rio Sibun following the pirate crews, then worked the

interior from Belmopan, as far as San Ignacio, too, skirting the

central mountains. The poaching was organised and corrupt, local

officials in on the plundering. The whole enterprise kept Burr

busy for a while: McQuillan paid him better than fair, there was


7/24

5

Infamy

plenty to eat and drink, a nice place to live in and Belize Town

to entertain. Just had to risk his neck every now and then, but

Burr made sure he took good care of that.Sometimes it was easy, the pirate gangs made up mostly of

African slaves, not interested in dragging trees or dying for them.

It was like that, often enough: an ambush, with just a couple of the

Creoles getting a little too excited and blasting a musket uselessly

into the foliage; the pirates looking up, surprised, then frowning,

Burr with the dragoons out and heavy in his hands. Always easy

to pick out the head hombre, because he was usually sitting on his

arse, chewing coca leaves. Most times the slaves just took off into

the jungle, and that was fine by Burr. On one occasion though,

they had turned on their pirate masters with machetes, hacking at

limbs and heads and shoulders, blood splattering leaves, soaking

into the damp ground. Burr watched, stunned, having seen some

things in his twenty-seven years on this earth, but not quite that.

It all happened fast, like everybody suddenly crazy with sunstroke.

Even the Creoles started firing, pointing their muskets at random.

When it all ended, the forest seemed to pause in the silence,

only gradually coming back to life, the sounds of birds and water

trickling, monkeys screeching again and splashing through the

high canopy of green, like nothing had happened. Burr helpedthe Creoles bury the dead pirates and three of the slaves, trying

not to think too much. He understood how a chained man might

feel about his servitude, and was no judge like McQuillan to

conclude upon what he saw which eased his mind some, though

hed never forget the day.

Made him wonder sometimes, soaking in a bath after weeks

in the jungle: all that timber turned into chests and chairs

and commodes, wealthy young ladies folding their scented


8/24

6


undergarments away in drawers, no idea where the mahogany had

come from, or what it had witnessed.

Men dying for trees, Burr said.

Ive seen them die for less, McQuillan said. They were drinking

rum with a squeeze of lime, sitting on McQuillans wide verandah

with the warm smell of cedar planks, watching the sun melt away

and spread an agave light over the lushness of palms and avocado

and banana, sweeping down the slope to Belize Town and the sea

beyond.

I dropped one of your pistols in the river, Burr said, looking

straight ahead. Hed been waiting for the right moment and none

had come, so he just said it.

McQuillan paused the glass before his lips, gave Burr a look.

It was an accident, Burr said. Heat of battle.You heard of Waterloo? You know I fired that thing at Colonel

Louis Guillaume Joseph Chapuzet himself? Quite possibly changed

the course of the battle?

You told me you winged his adjutant.

And? We destroyed Nogues Brigade and captured the eagle of

the 45th Ligne that day. Were talkinghistory, laddie. McQuillan

sighed. And now, a piece of Waterloo, sunk forever.

Burr gave McQuillan his own look. Might not be that one I

lost, he said. Might be the one Ive got left.

McQuillan shook his head. Id even been thinking about

giving you my spurs.

Those little English ones?

Tickled the bellies of some of the finest horses in the world,

my boy.


9/24

7

Infamy

I like my Spanish rowels, Burr said. Big and blunt. Gives

you more control of the horse. The English spurs are too sharp,

draw blood too easy, then all youve got is an angry animal, wantsto kick you off.

We werent gauchos cutting cattle, McQuillan said. We were

charging. He turned to Burr. Thundering.

Burr had nothing to say to that, but hed keep his Spaniards.

They drank more rum, and the housemaid, Magdalena, brought

out some sweet milk breads on a wooden board, and coffee, rich

and steaming. The old cavalryman thanked her and looked at her

tenderly, then reclined and ate, crumbs falling onto his chest as

he gazed out over his boots resting on the rail. His bean-black

eyes were narrowed and glossed, focused on the middle distance.

He combed down his thick grey whiskers with his fingers, and

sucked through his teeth.

After a time, he said, Im restless, laddie.

Youre old, Burr said.

Really? Maybe you should ask Magdalena what she thinks.

Burr grinned and reached for the sweet bread.

Ive received a letter from Arthur, McQuillan said. Hes

Lieutenant Governor in Van Diemens Land now. Says theres not

a morsel of talent in the whole colony.

Then youd fit right in.Corruption like a pox was the gist of it. Needs capable men

to help sort out the colonials.

I thought you couldnt stand Arthur?

Aye, its true. Hes a horses arse with a prayer book. But Im

restless . . . He stood up and poured more rum, then stamped

a boot on the verandah boards because his foot had gone to

sleep. The price of timber has fallen, McQuillan said. Theyre

pulling more mahogany next door, out of Guatemala, far down


10/24

8


as Nicaragua and Costa Rica. And you know the pirates just keep

coming.

So are you restless or tired?McQuillan held Burrs eyes, who caught a glimpse of what a

Frenchman might have seen, bearing down on him with pistol

and sword from the saddle, on the fields of Waterloo.

McQuillan said, Do I need to explain myself to you?

Burr shook his head. They drank and sat out the evening until

the rain began to stream down, and the rum laid thick golden

sediment in their limbs. It was good to pause, thought Burr,

feeling heavy in the reclined chair; and on the other side, it was

good to move, too, an urge that had taken him all over the South

Americas. And just then Isabel Manning swished into his mind,

her soft white neck and bare shoulders in that dress he liked, the

half-grin tucked into her cheek because she always knew what he

was thinking. Oh yes, it was good and fine for a man to pause

sometimes.

You could stay on here, McQuillan said. Id work it into

the sale.

When would you go?

Soon as Magdalena and I are married.

Burr looked at his friend and smiled. Congratulations. Shes

a fine woman.

Thank you, laddie, and she is that. And so I hope youve no

plans for the fourth, next month. Or young Miss Manning?

Well cancel all appointments.

Burr held up his glass and toasted McQuillan. The rain

drenched the land and the forests drank deeply. The mahogany

grew, unconcerned. They sat and watched like that, silent and

thoughtful, until late.


11/24

9

Infamy

Isabel Manning never made it to the wedding. Her father Lord

Alfred had other plans for his daughter and most of them were

back in London. Exactly where Burr was not. His Lordship even

sent a couple of sailor boys around to express his views personally,

and though Burr managed to land a few at the outset, most of

the expressing was one way and mainly worn by him. After she

sailed, Burr was distracted by the pirates for a time, working for

the new owner trading McQuillans timber, but after that last runin the jungle was now thinking Ethan Hall might be right about

his luck stretching thin. Maybe a change was called for.

He stayed another month in Belize Town, healing from the

arrow wounds and Halls surgery, then squaring off his affairs and

preparing for the voyage. He strolled through the narrow streets

of town, the grand old Spanish buildings slowly crumbling and

fading, the Garifuna women selling fruit and vegetables at themarket stalls, the bleary whore-and-rum houses baking in the sun,

the blue Caribbean swelling in the bay. He didnt know if hed

miss Belize or not, it was probably too early to tell, but Burr had

a sense that he was maybe coming back sometime.

He booked passage on the Kinnear and sailed for Van Diemens

Land on June twenty-second, 1829. The ships route was via

Trinidad, Cape Town and Sydney. They said if the weather held

good, he might even get there by the New Year.


12/24

10

1830

2

It was the third time theyd walked past the house and young

Jim Jacobsen was getting nervous. He said, Somebodys going

to notice.

Shut your hole. Tom Rougets head remained straight, but his

eyes flicked towards the house on the opposite side of the street.

District Police Magistrate Vaughan was still in there. As soon as

the man left, they could get on with it, but Jacobsen was right.

The timing of the whole thing was starting to get skewed. Rouget

had thought the idea lunacy to begin with, and had said so at the

time, but they were there now and he wasnt planning on coming

back to try again later.What if he aint leavin? Jacobsen said.

Hell leave, Rouget said. He walked, stretched himself tall and

confident, willing the plan into action. Jacobsen was at his elbow,

hunched as though against rain, and twitchy in the shoulders like

his shirt was bothering him. Rouget turned and grinned and put

his arm around the boys neck, pulling him in hard and close.

Roughed his hair, then started to sing.

Oh, tis a fine mess, youve got us in, Jim Jacobsen! Tis a fine mess!


13/24

11


Jesus! Jacobsen said, breaking free of Rougets arm. The man

was mad, their names nailed to notices all over Hobart Town.

A fine mess, oh, Jim Jacobsen!You want the gibbet, man? For Christs sake! But still, a thrill

ran through young Jim Jacobsen too, the way Rouget flirted with

the world around them, daring it like that. He just wished the

man would use his own name instead.

Tom Rougets eyes were bright and rum-shot. His hair was shiny

black and long and he tossed his head to get it out of his eyes. The

fraying coat he wore hid a cutlass hanging up high under his arm,

and there was a pistol in the pocket, too. Thats your problem,

Jimmy, Rouget said, looking around, serious again. No sense of

humour. Its the light soul gets away quickest.

Jacobsen followed, didnt reply. Tom Rouget was a different

man on the rum, and best not provoked. Jumped from friendly

to riled in a heartbeat.

The light soul . . . gets away . . .

And Christ, thought Jacobsen, now hes mumbling to

himself, too.

A cart came towards them, Aaron Lennox at the reins. No eyes

met between the men, but the two horses pulling slowed to a walk.

Rouget said, Go round once more.

Lennox shifted a bucket with his foot, glanced down at theloaded pistol inside. I dont like it.

Not what I asked you.

Lennox spat on the ground. He said, Dont change what Im

saying. Then he blew Rouget a kiss and clicked his tongue and

slapped the reins, bringing the two horses up a pace. He hated

Rouget and looked forward to the day hed slit the bastards throat.

Slowly, he said to himself, imagining the knife in his hand. Further

down he reined the animals into Macquarie Street, glancing over


14/24

12

Infamy

his shoulder at the dark walls of the town gaol as they went by. He

felt the shadow of the building across his back like a cloak, and the

scars there twitched beneath his shirt. Hed do it, he thought, andnobody was going to find the body. Ill feed him to the fucking

dogs. Lennox smiled and his mouth was full of ragged black teeth.

Rouget walked on with Jacobsen. Another twenty or thirty yards

and theyd turn back again, separately, one on either side of the

street, Rouget holding back a little. Then get the hell out of there.

He said, This time, Jimmy, well be in and away. Ill wager a gill.

Jacobsen didnt take the bet. He was just praying now, quietly

in his head, that they wouldnt get caught. Thinking how Rouget

had promised him, hand on his heart, that hed put a fucking

ball into young Jimmys head before ever letting them send him

back through Hells Gates again.

It wasnt the first time Ellen Vaughan had smelled another woman

in her husbands hair, but it was the first time she didnt care one

way or the other.

She picked off a loose strand of cotton at the seam of his jacket,

then smoothed it across his shoulders. It was old and the cloth was

worn to a f lat shine, but it would be all right. As Stephen turned

to face her, she thought about setting his hair on fire, the thoughtsudden but quiet in her mind, the idea of just picking up the oil

lamp on the table there beside them and smashing it on his skull.

Shed like to see it, but had reached a threshold of pain now that

only left her feeling numb. There would be no changing what

was. Ellen Vaughan had already decided to leave the son of a bitch.

Youre not going to tell me? Ellen said.

Stephen Vaughan turned away, ignoring his wife. The Lieutenant

Governor, George Arthur, had asked to see him, yet Vaughan had


15/24

13


no idea why. As a district police magistrate, he usually dealt directly

with the chief police magistrate, that old turd John McQuillan,

who passed on Arthurs concerns and commands. Hed met theman, of course, but their business had been brief and always with

one or two others present. Even in a room full of people, George

Arthur made him feel awkward. To be called in personally like

this had set Vaughans mind to speculating, and mostly in the

negative. Of course, he hadnt admitted that to Ellen, but had

built on it by acting as though he knew exactly what the meeting

was about. Holding it from her seemed to ease his anxiety. And

irritated her, he could see, which was pleasing in itself.

Fine, Ellen said and walked out of the room.

Vaughan couldnt remember when it had started, him liking

the feeling she could be hurt like that.

He checked himself in the mirror, fixing his hat at just the

right angle. It was early, but Vaughan would leave now and make

his way. Hed need a drink before seeing the Lieutenant Governor.

Rouget was thinking they had come far enough down the street.

The rum was wearing off and tiredness had crept into his limbs.

Sober, he was predisposed to a thick, morbid melancholy, some-

thing hed had in common with his old man, and he was startingto feel the heavy, cold lead of it now. Thankfully, the dusk was

working itself up at the same time, and in Rougets case this always

helped. He liked the night, the world turned to shadow. Once they

were away with the Vaughan woman, riding out into the dark back

to camp, hed be good by then, nothing to sweat about at all. And

Christ, with a bottle in his hands, too.

Rouget said, Lets do it. He left Jacobsen without looking at

him and crossed the street, pushing his fists deep into the pockets


16/24


17/24

15


in the declining light. She wondered if Stephen was at a window

just now, gazing down on the street, waiting for the Lieutenant

Governor to see him; and if so, what would he be thinking,looking at her there?

A chill threaded the air, fresh off the mountain above. She

didnt care what the hell he thought anymore; her mind was

concerned only with how she could evacuate their sinking life

together. Ellen Vaughan remembered her father bidding them

goodbye on the docks at Deptford two years before, his eyes glazed

in the fog. He didnt say anything as they started up the gangplank,

just watched and wobbled his sad old head. Hed disapproved of

Stephen from the beginning, and had warned her. But Captain

Vaughan was handsome, resplendent in the uniform of his new

commission, and attentive to her. There was the promise of

adventure, of a singular life. There was nothing needed warning

that young Ellen could see.

She crossed Elizabeth Street, then Argyle, no particular desti-

nation in mind. Her husband had eventually sold his commission

to pay gambling debts, and was now with Arthurs police, in

the company of convict constables and thieves, drunkards and

prostitutes. At first, Ellen put it down to Hobart Town, the raw

shock of it, down here at the bottom of the world. The whole

settlement was a runnel. Any man could get his boots muddy, itwas almost impossible to step completely clear of its degradations.

What she discovered, and in quick time too, was that her husband

didnt mind the mud at all.

The evening cooled the suns setting, its orange glow faded

slowly from the sky. Ellen saw the ships in the harbour turning

to silhouettes, tilting their masts stiffly to and fro. The sound of

creaking timber carried across the water and mingled with the

shouts of dock workers loading and unloading the smaller boats


18/24

16

Infamy

that nudged their way through the jigsaw of ships. Sullivans Cove

was no place for a woman, particularly approaching night, but

her defiance of the situation shed found herself in a wickedhusband, a wicked place was piqued and there was nobody to

stop her going down by the water, to sit and watch its lapping,

drift her mind out on the tide. Ellen Vaughan wanted to stay out

all night and never go back.

Captain Stephen Vaughan, for that was his official rank, stood

beside the fireplace and stared at the unlit logs stacked there, hands

clasped behind his back. He was glad of the rum in his blood, more

than willing to risk the teetotal Arthur catching it on his breath.

This way, Captain.

Vaughans boot heels echoed through the hall. Government

House smelled musty and damp; the weather had been unseason-

ably warm. As the servant led him down, Vaughan grew hot

beneath his coat, felt the alcohol rising up his neck and into his

cheeks. Hed heard that Arthurs position as Chief Executive might

be coming to an end sometime soon; but then, rumours were a

plague in Van Diemens Land, and not to be gambled on. And

besides, Vaughan already knew where to put his money, when the

time came to do so.The servant stopped before the Lieutenant Governors door

and leaned in slightly. Muffled voices could be heard inside. He

hesitated, then knocked.

Arthurs voice, from the other side of the door, Yes?

Captain Vaughan, sir.

One moment.

Vaughan stood straighter. The door opened and Lionel Gibbons

of the Van Diemens Land Bank walked out, his large head flushed,


19/24

17


his jowls shiny, the remaining hairs on his skull snaking across it

like scrawled signatures. No doubt he had some good ones in his

collection too, locked away in the banks vault, on very carefullyworded pages and among them Arthurs, who Vaughan knew to

be quietly collecting a more than extensive portfolio of fine real

estate. Gibbons was sly, a nasty little wombat: just a firm squeeze

would see plenty of fat seep out of his pores. Vaughan knew about

his slut up in New Town, but was patient with the information

for now, willing to wait for a more lucrative moment to arrive.

Vaughan smiled. The banker brushed past without a word.

Come in, Captain.

Vaughan removed his hat and stepped through the door. Arthur

sat at his desk and did not look up, concentrating on the documents

spread before him. His movements were deliberate and careful

as he slid the pages around the desktop. You could see it, why the

free settlers loathed him: the perpetual air of condescension, the

slow-blinking, insouciant eyes, the self-assurance that seemed out

of proportion to his size. At some level, Vaughan had to admire

the man. Arthur used what he had and never thought about what

he lacked. The silver buttons on his coat shone.

You have news of Coyne? Arthur said.

So that was it. This was going to be about the outlaw. Vaughan

relaxed. A raid in the midlands, sir, three days ago, he said.Twenty-three sheep, five cows, and one of the hands beaten.

Thomas Lovelocks farm. Vaughan restrained a smile: Lovelock

was married to a cousin of Arthurs.

Yes. I have been informed. Arthur shuffled more papers on

the desk, stretched the silence. Vaughan wondered if the collar

on the mans shirt could possibly reach any higher up his neck.

Arthur said, And what have your contacts to say, Captain?

Vaughan baulked. Well . . . sir . . .


20/24

18

Infamy

I should think they would betray their own mothers for the

amounts I have furnished you and the other district magistrates

with these past months.A familiar dread burned for a moment in Vaughans stomach,

one he remembered well in the shape of his father. So now it

was two cunts in one lifetime. He couldnt help but believe in a

significant compensation, surely coming someday soon. Vaughan

said, They headed north-west, sir.

Arthur said, North-west. This with contempt. Where else

would they go? Its where the miscreant is hiding out, is it not,

Captain? According to numerous informants?

Vaughan wore Arthurs scornful look. The man was angry,

and he knew why. Only two days previous, Brown George Coyne

had a gang member nail a notice to the courthouse under cover

of dark, addressed to the citizens of Van Diemens Land.

Reward

Twenty gallons of Rum for the Delivery into My Custody of one Colonel

George Bloody Arthur. The Reprobates Offences include Fraudulently

Impersonating a Lieutenant Governor. For I Am the TRUE George!

I cannot waste further resources on Coyne, Arthur said. Your

men will, from now on, be exclusively committed to protecting

settlers from hostile natives.

Yes, sir, Vaughan said, surprised that Arthur would abandon

the recapture of Coyne.

There have been seven British deaths in the last month alone,

Arthur said. He opened a drawer, dropped a page inside and

closed it. In response to the deterioration of relations between


21/24

19


ourselves and the natives in response to their increasingly violent

behaviour and unprovoked attacks on our presence I have received

authorisation from the Colonial Secretary to offer a reward forthe capture of any and all of the natives in Van Diemens Land.

Vaughan frowned.

Five pounds, Captain Vaughan, for every adult, and two

pounds for every child delivered to the authorities. Arthur looked

over at Vaughan now. You will dispense such claims as regards

your district and jurisdiction.

Of course, sir, Vaughan said. Christ, did the man say five

pounds? Vaughan wondered whod be left in the colony not hunting

the blacks. So Im to divert my men from pursuing Coyne?

Arthur said, I want three men available, in addition to yourself.

If youll excuse me, sir, Vaughan said, but

The Lieutenant Governor raised a hand. I have somebody

arriving who shall take care of the Coyne question. A professional.

You are to offer him every assistance.

Vaughan thought son of a bitch. May I inquire who, sir?

William Burr, Arthur said, eyes back on the papers before

him. He arrives this evening on the Kinnear. And I would like

you to meet him, Captain Vaughan. If you dont mind? Major

McQuillan will no doubt be there, the two men are old friends,

but I would prefer an official government welcome to the colony,in the person of yourself.

Rouget rubbed thumb and forefinger over the walnut stock of the

pistol in his pocket, tracing the grip-smoothed engraving there,

lines crisscrossing into tiny diamonds. He was waiting for Lennox

to come around with the cart. Ellen Vaughan had followed her

husband out of the house, and Rouget had watched her stop to


22/24

20

Infamy

talk to some people, then wait to cross the street and make her

way towards town, walking quickly. Before he could think to do

anything, she was out of sight, gone through the meanderingcouples on their evening walk, and Rouget had sworn, irritated

that things had swerved on him again. And now the whole street

had come alive with carriages and people walking by, like a tide

had come in and caught them, and Lennox still hadnt turned the

corner with the fucking cart.

Up ahead and on the opposite side of the street, young Jimmy

Jacobsen had stopped walking and was looking back at him, obvious

and unsure what to do. Rouget said, Jesus,fuck. He started towards

Jacobsen, looking back over his shoulder and finally catching sight

of Lennox in the cart, turning back into the street with the other

traffic. Rouget quickened his pace, pulling the coat tight around

him as it flapped open, holding the cutlass down with his arm.

They would have to improvise.


23/24

Competition closes 20/10/13

Go to

facebook.com/AllenandUnwinBooks

for your chance to

WIN 1 of 30 copies of Infamy

plus a $50 voucherto spend online at nakedwines.com.au
https://apps.facebook.com/allenandunwinbooks/giveaways/Enter/9330https://apps.facebook.com/allenandunwinbooks/giveaways/Enter/9330


24/24

Twenty gallons of Rum for

the Delivery into My Custody of one

Colonel George Bloody Arthur.

The Reprobates Offences include Fraudulently

Impersonating a Lieutenant Governor.

For I Am the TRUE George!

William Burr, the son of an English settler in South America,

had a steady job hunting mahogany pirates in British

Honduras. One day, injured and recovering after a jungle

skirmish, he receives a letter from John McQuillan, his

old friend and now chief police magistrate in Hobart Town,with the offer of a reward for the capture of a notorious

outlaw: and so Burr sets sail for the Antipodes, though with

little idea of what to expect.

He arrives in Van Diemens Land, the most isolated and

feared penal colony of the British Empire, in 1830 to nd

a world of corruption, brutality and mystical beauty.

Following the trail of Brown George Coyne, the charismaticoutlaw leader of a band of escaped convicts, Burr is soon

rushing headlong through the surreal, mesmerising

Vandemonian wilderness, where he will discover not only

the violent truth of British settlement, but also the love of

a woman, and the friendship of an Aboriginal tracker,

himself an outcast on an island of outcasts.

A brilliant and beguiling Australian Western by a writer

of astonishing talent. Visceral, phantasmagoric, explosive

and exhilaratingyou have never read anything like it.

This is an extract fromInfamyby Lenny Bartulin andis for promotional use only Not for resale

letty bartulin - infamy

Documents