The Mask of the Enchantress

The Grumbling Giant

So I went alone to Sydney. One of Laura's brothers came to meet the boat and take me out to the property. The luggage would come the next day by wagon.

I had to explain to Alan, the brother, that Philip had decided there was too much to do on the island for him to come away.

Alan grimaced. "Laura will take a grim view of that, I can tell you," he said.

There was a warm welcome for me at the property. Laura was radiant. She was disappointed not to see Philip but after the initial annoyance she quickly recovered her spirits, for she was too happy to be separated from her absolute bliss for long.

I liked her husband-to-be. They were going up to Queensland where he had inherited a property and they planned to leave immediately after the wedding.

I was fitted for my bridesmaid's dress and she commented that my new hair style was very smart. "It changes you, Suewellyn," she told me. "You've lost that innocent look you had. You look like a woman of the world."

"Perhaps I'm becoming one."

She came to my room as she used to when we were schoolgirls and lay on the floor kicking up her heels and resting her chin in her cupped hands while she studied me sitting in the armchair.

"Doesn't this take you back?" she said. "And now ... just think, I'm getting married. I stole a march on you."

"You are a year older."

"Yes, that could account for it. The family is disappointed, Suewellyn."

"You mean about Philip's not coming."

"Yes, and I think they were rather hoping ... you know how families are. They have one wedding in the family and they immediately want another. Father says they are catching. In fact, I believe Alan will be the next. But they are thinking of Philip. They are very fond of you, Suewellyn."

"They have always been so nice to me. It meant a lot when I came here on those short holidays. As I couldn't get to the island in time it would have meant staying at school."

"They loved your coming. They thought you were so good for me. I do think it was mean of Philip. Is there so much to do?"

I hesitated.

"Out with it," she said. "What's wrong? You can't fool me. What has gone wrong between you two?"

"There's nothing... ."

"There is something. Don't you like each other any more?"

"I don't think Philip ever liked me enough to want to marry me."

"He did. He was falling in love with you. We all knew it. My mother used to say it was only a matter of time. They're so disappointed. They wanted an announcement at my wedding."

"No. It wasn't like that at all." She was looking at me steadily and I burst out: "My half sister came to see us on the island. He was, as you might say, swept off his feet by her."

"Oh, is he going to marry her?'

"Oh no. She is going to marry someone else."

"What a mess! And what a fool Philip is!"

"These things happen. You can't arrange other people's lives."

"Do you mind? ..."

"Oh, I don't think it was ever serious between Philip and me. I suppose I wasn't quite grown up. My parents thought it would be ideal because then I should stay on the island and Philip would be working there with my father. It was all too neat really."

"What a pity! It's spoiled things in a way."

"It can't spoil things for you. Everything is perfect. You're going to be blissfully happy, Laura."

"Yes, I am. You'll come and stay with us in Queensland, won't you?"

"I might consider it ... if I were asked."

"You're asked here and now."

"All right then, I'll consider."

Then we talked about the wedding preparations and the honeymoon and I let her think that Philip had not really been very important to me.

So Laura was married and I was a bridesmaid and the day after the wedding she and her husband left for their honeymoon. I remained at the property until the ship was due to sail for the island. They tried to persuade me to stay right until the last day but I wanted to do some shopping in Sydney, so I said. The truth was that I wanted to get away. There was too much there to remind me of those happy holidays with Philip and Laura. It occurred to me that I would never visit the property again. I did not want to look very far into the future. I wondered what it would be like on the island when Susannah was gone. Philip might remain unless he made some excuse to follow her to England, which he might well do. I did not want to think of it.

It was quite an adventure staying at the hotel alone, although the proprietors knew me, for once or twice I had stayed there with the Halmers when they came to see me off on the ship. There were quite a number of people staying in the hotel. They were mostly graziers from the outback, who sat about in the big lounge talking wool prices and doing business with each other. I stayed in my rooms and had my meals there. I should only be in Sydney for two days. It seemed a long time, though, and I realized it was the first time in my life that I had really been alone.

I longed to be back on the island, yet I wondered what I should find there. It would not be the paradise it had been on other return journeys in the past. Philip would have learned that Susannah did not regard him with any seriousness. Poor Philip!

How different it would have been if Susannah had never come to Vulcan Island!

It was the morning before the day the ship would leave and I decided to do some last-minute shopping. I came out of one of the shops in Elizabeth Street where I had been to buy some clothes for Anabel and as I emerged into the sunshine a voice said: "Good morning, Miss Mateland."

I turned and saw a young man whom I had never seen before. He took off his hat and bowed. "You don't remember me," he said. "I'm Michael Roston of Roston, Evans. My father, who used to look after your affairs, died three weeks ago and I've taken over from him."

I realized then that he thought I was Susannah. I hesitated.

I heard myself say: "I'm sorry."

"It was sudden," he went on. "A stroke. By the way, something has come in for you. I was going to put it on the ship and send it out to Vulcan Island. I presumed you were there still."

"I was waiting for the ship," I said.

"So you are going back again. Would you like to call in for the mail? You know where we are in Hunter Street. It's a bit of a climb up to the fourth floor. But the firm has been at 33 Hunter for so long. My father would never think of moving."

My heart was beating fast. The name registered very clearly in my mind, so the idea must have been there before I was aware of it. Mr. Michael Roston of Roston, Evans, number 33 Hunter Street on the fourth floor. It would be amusing to collect Susannah's mail and take it out to her.

"Look," I would say. "There must be a strong resemblance. I was accosted by a young man who thought I was you, and I decided to let him believe it and I've brought back your mail."

I said: "I'll collect the mail."

"Very well," he said.

"Perhaps I'll call sometime this afternoon."

"Yes, do. If I'm not there someone else will give it to you. I'll tell them you're coming."

"I'll do that and ... I'm very sorry about your father."

"We miss him. He had his fingers in everything. It's not always easy picking up the threads. But we shall keep our old connections of course and particularly with your people in England. We have worked with Carruthers, Gentle for over fifty years."

I thanked him and went back to the hotel. I did not notice now the graziers all intent on making negotiations about their wool.

I went straight to my room. I was considerably stimulated by the encounter.

I pulled off my hat. Yes, I did look like her. I felt like her. Important. Receiving letters from England through an Australian agent.

My little masquerade had enlivened my spirits.

That afternoon I collected the letters. I saw the young man again. This time I was more prepared for my role. I reminded myself that he had seen Susannah only once and then in passing. His father would have known at once that I was an impostor.

He chatted a little while. "And how are you liking Vulcan Island, Miss Mateland?"

"I find it interesting."

"I suppose you will be returning to England before the year is out."

"Perhaps."

"You must miss a great deal. My father was telling me about that wonderful castle which is your home."

"It's a beautiful place."

He asked a few questions about the island.

"I hear it has changed and, since the hospital has been built and the industry there is flourishing, it's becoming quite a civilized community."

"That is so," I replied.

"The Englishman who went there some years ago is to be congratulated, I hear. It's not the most promising spot. I believe it was all but destroyed by volcanic eruption once."

"That was three hundred years ago."

"Extinct now, I suppose."

I said that I must go as I had so much to prepare for the next day. I was afraid he was going to ask questions which it might be difficult for me to answer.

I took the mail to my room and stowed it away in a little hand case which I should carry with me.

I wondered what Susannah would say when I told her I had been mistaken for her in the streets of Sydney.

It was very hot on the day we sailed. I stood on the deck looking out on the magnificent harbor. I remained there as we went through the Heads and for long after the land had receded and we came out into the open sea.

Then I went to my cabin.

I longed to see my parents but in a way I dreaded getting back to the island. Susannah would be ready to leave. Poor Philip, would he want to go with her?

Oh, Susannah, I thought, why did you ever come to the island to disrupt our lives!

We had been at sea for several days, and the next afternoon we should sight the land. I was awakened in the night by a rocking of the ship. It was unusual on those seas.

When I went down to breakfast I was aware that something was wrong. People were talking together with that mixture of excitement and apprehension which indicated that something extraordinary was afoot.

I asked what was wrong.

"We can't find out. The ship started to rock. We've stopped because the more we go on the worse it becomes."

During the morning we noticed the strange smell in the air; it was acrid, sulphuric, and there was a cloud of smoke hanging in the sky.

Rumors spread through the ship.

I paused to talk to a woman who was leaning on the rail looking out to sea.

"They say it's volcanic action somewhere," she said. "One of the islands... ."

A terrible fear gripped me.

"Which one?" I cried. "Which one?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. They are all volcanic in this area."

I felt sick. I had visions of Cougabel's great limpid eyes heavy with prophecies. "Grumbling Giant not pleased... ."

A fatalistic certainty came to me. I knew that the Giant had ceased to grumble and give vent to his anger.

The captain was undecided what to do.

He had goods to deliver to the island and he was not absolutely sure which one was affected, and as the rocking of the ship had stopped he decided to venture farther.

I was on the deck. I was looking at the ruins of my home. I could see the mountain peak, flames shooting from it and smoke circling round it.

I went to the captain. "This is my home," I said. "I must go and see for myself."

"I can't let you go," he told me. "It's dangerous."

'It's my home," I repeated stubbornly.

"I am sending two boats ashore to see if there are any people in need of help."

"I'm going with them," I said.

"I'm afraid I can't allow it."

I kept saying: "It's my home, you know." He did know because he had captained the ship several times when I had gone back and forth from school.

"I can't let you go," he said.

"I shall swim then. You can't stop that. I've got to see for myself. My mother may be there ... my father... ."

He could see I was frantic with grief and apprehension.

"It's at your own risk," he said.

I stood there on that once beautiful island. I looked about me but could recognize little. The Giant remained, big and menacing, his sides burned black by the fiery streaks which he had spewed out over the fertile land. On what was left of the huts were strewn cinders and ashes. There were traces of hot pumice and glowing lava. It was dark, almost like night, but I saw that all that was left of the beautiful hospital was a heap of stones.

"Where are you?" I whispered. "Anabel ... Joel ... where are you? Philip, Susannah, Cougaba, Cougabel ... where?"

There were rivers of pasty mud over everything. The steam from the volcano had evidently condensed into rain and mixed with the light volcanic dust to form this paste. It had clearly flowed down from the slopes and smothered the little houses of the islanders.

Around the island were dust and stones which must have been blown out from the crater for miles around.

I could not believe it. It was a nightmare. I knew that nobody could survive such a cataclysmic experience.

It was lost ... everything. My whole life had been wiped away.

Why had I laughed at the Grumbling Giant? Why had we all? Why hadn't we listened to the warnings of the natives who knew far better than we did?

He had destroyed us in the end—destroyed my father and his hopes and dreams, my beloved mother, Cougaba, Cougabel, Susannah, Philip... .

I had been saved by some miracle in the form of Laura's wedding. But saved for what?

I was alone . . , desolate.

I wished that I had been there with them.

The captain looked at me with kindly eyes.

"There is nothing you can do. There's nothing any of us can do. You must return to Sydney with the ship."

My mind was a blank. I could not think of the future. I could think of nothing but that they were gone ... they were all dead.

I did not want to go back to Sydney. I wanted to stay there in that spot where we had all been so happy. I wanted to tunnel through the rubble. I wanted to look and look. "Just in case ..." I said to the captain.

He shook his head. "None could have survived. Where could they have gone to? Can you imagine what it would have been like?"

I shook my head and cried: "Tell me. Tell me."

He put his arm about me and tried to soothe me. "You mustn't distress yourself," he said.

"Not distress myself! My home ... all that I loved ... all that meant anything to me ... gone ... and I must not distress myself!"

He was silent and I went on: "Tell me what happened to them. Tell me what it would have been like for them."

"It would have happened quickly," he said. "They might not have had any warning. Just a sudden commotion ... inside the crater... ."

"Grumbling," I cried hysterically. "It was the Grumbling Giant. We laughed at it ... laughed. Oh, it was evil ... and we laughed... ."

"My dear Miss Mateland, it is no use going over it," he said. "I doubt they would have suffered. It would all have been too quick."

"All over ..." I said. "Years of hopes and dreams ... and all over."

"Let me take you back to the ship," he said. "We'll go back to Sydney and then you can make plans."

"Plans?" I murmured blankly. "Plans?"

I hadn't thought of the future until then. But of course I had to go on living.

I did not want to think of the future. I did not want to think of living without them. I only wanted to know how it happened. I wanted to think of them in their last moments. My mother, best loved of all, Miss Anabel who had brought such happiness to a little girl in a loveless cottage all those years ago, Miss Anabel with the gayest laughter I had ever heard ... and she was gone. I had known what it meant to be dearly loved and I had loved in return. And now ... and now ...

I could not imagine a world without her.

"Tell me ... tell me how it happened," I cried again.

"Well, it was a volcanic eruption. We thought it was extinct. It hadn't erupted for three hundred years. It only sent out dribbles now and then."

"It grumbled," I said. "It grumbled and grumbled. It was the Grumbling Giant. That's what they called it."

"I know the natives were superstitious about it. They're always superstitious about anything they don't understand. There would have been total darkness. The sea would have been disturbed. You see it has receded from the shores. There are lots of marine animals lying about. There would be flashes of lightning and the lava would start spurting out of the crater and covering the island."

"Hot glowing lava ..."

"And the volcanic dust would make the paste. The air would be full of steam. But you are distressing yourself, Miss Mateland. Come, I'm taking you back to the ship. We ought to get away quickly. I just had to make sure there was nothing I could do. Nobody survived. You can see that. Come along now."

"I want to stay," I cried irrationally. "It's my home."

"No more," he said sadly. "Come along. We have to get back. It could be dangerous here. What if it erupted again?"

He took me firmly by the arm and put me into the small boat.

We went back to the ship.

I knew I should never forget the sight of the island ... smoldering, destroyed. The hospital ... the plantation ... all the dreams ... everything that meant anything to me ... all gone.

I must have been in a sort of daze. The captain took me to the hotel. He was a very kind man and I shall always remember his sympathy with gratitude.

Everyone was kind to me, as people seem to be when there is a major disaster. The manager of the hotel gave me my old room and left me alone there. I wanted to be alone.

I stayed there for two days—not eating, just lying on my bed. The only relief was when I slept, which I did now and then very fitfully from sheer exhaustion. Then there would follow the awakening, which was terrible because then the reality would come flooding back.

At the end of two days I awoke from my stupor. Mrs. Halmer came in from the property, for news of what had happened had reached her. She said I must go back with her. I needed to recover from this terrible shock.

I thought about it; I was not sure whether I wanted to go or not. Hers would be a house of mourning too, for her son Philip was one of the victims.

She said we would share our grief, that we would comfort each other.

When she saw that I was still too bemused to make a decision she said she would come back in a week and in the meantime if I wanted to come there would be a welcome for me at any time.

"You'll be able to think about what you are going to do," she said. "We'll work it out together. It'll be quiet on the property. No one will worry you."

When she had gone it was as though she had drawn back the curtain which had shut me in with my misery.

What was I going to do? If I were to go on living I had to have a life to lead. My family and my home were lost to me. Where would I go? What should I do?

I tried to push these questions aside.

I don't care, I kept saying to myself. I don't care what becomes of me.

That was silly. I was here. I was alive. I had to go on living.

How?

With a rush of apprehension I remembered that I was here in the hotel. I had a little money which I had brought with me for my trip but that would not last long.

I was penniless ... almost. My father had put everything into the hospital and the plantation. They were to be my inheritance.

I could remember my mother's saying: "Your father has put all he has into the hospital and the plantation. It will be yours one day, Suewellyn."

The memory of her voice and those beautiful blue eyes all concern for me was too much to bear. I buried my face in my pillow.

"I don't care. I don't care what becomes of me," I muttered.

Then I seemed to hear her voice again: "That's silly, darling. You've got to go on living. You've got to find some way. It's not like you to give up. We're not that sort of people. Your father ... me ... you. When life is cruel we just stand firm against it We fight back, Suewellyn."

She was right. I would have to go on. I would have to fight my way out of this morass of grief and misery. I had to go on living.

I had to have money, so I should have to work. What could I do? What did people in my position do? I had had a good education. My mother had been an excellent governess. I could do something.

I didn't want to. I wanted to take the ship back to Vulcan Island and go up the mountain to the crater and tell the Grumbling Giant to kill me as he had killed them.

I could almost feel my mother's hands stroking my hair. "Suewellyn, you're a Mateland. Matelands never give up."

Yes, I was a Mateland. I thought of my ancestors in the picture gallery. I had always wanted to go to the castle. Even now I could feel that. I was astonished. I had a faint interest in life. I must have, for there was a desire in me to see the castle.

Then I remembered the mail I had collected for Susannah. It was in my bag. What should I do with it now? Take it back to Roston, Evans? Explain that I had pretended to be Susannah? I was in no mood to do that.

I took out the letters and turned them over in my hands. It was such a relief not to be thinking of that devastated island for a few moments.

I don't know when the impulse came to me. It was like clutching at a life line. I had to stop thinking of my parents and Philip. I had to do something which absorbed me to such an extent that I stopped torturing myself.

I opened the letter, telling myself that Susannah was dead now and I should know something of her affairs.

It was an official-looking letter and it was from a solicitor in Mateland, the Carruthers, Gentle whom Mr. Roston had mentioned.

Dear Miss Mateland [I read],

We have to inform you of the sudden death of Mr. Esmond Mateland which occurred on Thursday last. According to your grandfather's will, Mateland Castle with its estates now passes to you as the heir named by your grandfather in the event of your cousin's death without issue. Will you please get in touch with us as soon as possible? We shall be in communication with Messrs. Roston, Evans and Company to whom we are sending this letter. On receipt of it perhaps you will call at their offices in 33 Hunter Street, Sydney.

Yours truly,

for Carruthers, Gentle Ltd.

There was a signature which I could not quite decipher.

I sat back. So Susannah was now the owner of the castle. She had intended to be and had planned to marry her cousin Esmond Mateland for that reason. Now Esmond was dead and Susannah had the castle ... or would have had she been alive. To whom did the castle belong now?

I think it was at that moment that the idea came into my head. It was so wild, so preposterous that I did not at first receive it. But it was there like a seed, germinating, ready to spring forth and strangle my scruples.

I must have been in a strange mood, for it would not have occurred to me a few weeks earlier to open letters not addressed to me.

I picked up the other letter. It was in a rather thin sloping hand. Before I could stop myself I had slit the envelope.

Dear Susannah [I read],

You will have heard the terrible news. As you can guess, I am desolate. He was so well such a short time ago. The doctors are baffled. You can imagine how it is with me. I am prostrate with grief. You must come home at once. I know that you are on the other side of the world and that it will take time. But please leave at once. It seems so long since we have seen you, for, remember, you were away at school that year in France at that finishing place, and then home so briefly before you went away again ... to Australia. I shall hardly know what you look like soon. It has been so long.

I know how you will be feeling. Your sufferings will be as mine. After all you were the girl he was going to marry and I his mother. Who could be closer than that? He had been threatening to come out to Australia to bring you back. Of course he did spend all that time in Paris when you were there. Things are chaotic here. Carruthers, Gentle say you must come, for only when you are back can everything be settled. You are the mistress of Mateland now. Oh dear, what tragedies beset our family. Esmond to die like that ... so young. And his father ... I have had my share of trouble. My eyes, of course, do not improve. It is a gradual process, but I am warned that in five years I shall be blind.

You must make arrangements to come home at once, Susannah.

My love to you.

Your Aunt Emerald

I read the letters through again and for a long time sat staring into space.

When I looked up I saw that I had been sitting there for half an hour. During that time my thoughts had taken me back. I was standing on the edge of the woods looking at the castle. I was there inside, seeing it clearly from what I had heard from Susannah and my mother.

It was amazing.

I had not thought of my tragic circumstances all that time.