The Luminaries

ugly pinkish weal, as thick as a length of sisal, and puckered at both ends. He touched the scar very often with his fingertips, and had taken to covering it with his hand when he spoke.
    When
Godspeed
returned from Port Phillip on the 14th of June, Carver met with James Raxworthy to inform him that his tenure as captain had come to an end. The barque had been sold from under him, and by order of the ship’s new owner, a Mr. Wells, Carver himself had been promoted to the captaincy, an honour that gave him the licence to disband Raxworthy’s crew, and assemble his own. The meeting between Carver and his former captain was long, and not at all cordial; relations became further strained when Carver discovered that a certain item had been struck from
Godspeed
’s inventory one month ago. He appealed to Raxworthy, who only shrugged: as far as he could see, there had been no breach of regulation or protocol in the trunk’s having been recalled. Carver’s fury turned to anguish. He applied to the customhouse, and to all the shipping firms along the quay, and to all the doss-houses in the sailors’ district. His inquiries turned up nothing. Poring over the shipping news of the
Otago Witness
later that evening, he discovered that, besides
Godspeed
, there had been only one departure from Port Chalmers on the 13th of May: the schooner
Blanche
, bound for Hokitika.
    ‘It’s hardly even a clue,’ he said to Mrs. Wells, ‘but I can’t stand to do nothing. If I do nothing I’ll go mad. I’ve still got his birth certificate , after all—and the miner’s right. I’ll say my name is Crosbie Wells, and I’ll say I’ve lost a shipping crate. I’ll offer a reward for its return.’
    ‘But what about Crosbie himself?’ said Mrs. Wells. ‘There’s a chance—’
    ‘If I see him,’ said Carver, ‘I’ll kill him.’
    ‘Francis—’
    ‘I’ll kill him.’
    ‘He will be expecting you to pursue him. He won’t be caught off guard—not a second time.’
    ‘Neither will I.’
    The day before
Godspeed
’s departure, Anna Wetherell was summoned to the downstairs parlour, where she found Mrs. Wells waiting for her.
    ‘Now that Mr. Carver has recovered his health,’ said Mrs. Wells, ‘I can turn my mind to less pressing matters, such as the matter of your future. You cannot remain in my household even a moment longer, Miss Wetherell, and you know the reason why.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Anna whispered.
    ‘I might have turned a blind eye to your betrayal,’ Mrs. Wells went on, ‘and suffered in silence, as is a woman’s lot; the violence brought upon Mr. Carver, however, I cannot ignore. Your alliance with my husband has passed beyond the realm of wickedness, and into the realm of evil. Mr. Carver has been permanently disfigured. Indeed he was lucky to have kept his life, given the severity of the injuries he sustained. He will bear that scar forever.’
    ‘I was asleep,’ said Anna. ‘I didn’t see any of it.’
    ‘Where is Mr. Wells?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Are you telling me the truth, Miss Wetherell?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I swear.’
    Mrs. Wells drew herself up. ‘Mr. Carver sails to the West Coast tomorrow, as you know,’ she said, changing the subject, ‘and as it happens I have an acquaintance in a Hokitika man. Dick Manneringis his name. He will set you up in Hokitika as he sees fit: you will become a camp follower, as was your original ambition, and you and I will not cross paths again. I have taken the liberty of costing all of your expenses over the last two months, and passing the debt to him. I can see you are surprised. Perhaps you believe that liquor grows on trees. Do you believe that liquor grows on trees?’
    ‘No, ma’am,’ she whispered.
    ‘Then it will not come as a surprise to you that your habit of drinking alone has cost me more than pennies, this month past.’
    ‘No, ma’am.’
    ‘Evidently you are not as stupid as you are wicked,’ said Mrs. Wells, ‘though given the scope and degree of your wickedness, this hardly signifies as an intellectual achievement. Mr. Mannering, I ought to inform you, is unmarried, so you are in no danger of bringing shame upon his household as you have done upon mine.’
    Anna choked; she could not speak. When Mrs. Wells dismissed her she flew to the boudoir, went to her bureau, pulled the stopper from the decanter of laudanum-laced whisky and drank straight from the neck, in two desperate, wretched slugs. Then she threw herself