Nanberry by Jackie French Read Free Book Online Page B

‘Bo-ee … dead ?’
    â€˜Yes, bo-ee means dead.’
    â€˜Dead.’ The boy lay down, fingering the buttons on hisnightshirt. It was impossible to read the expression on his face. The Surgeon shivered. Strange that one of the first English words he heard a native child say should be dead . But that is what we have brought them, he thought. Death.
    Now God save the colony from the smallpox.

Chapter 12
NANBERRY
    W HITE-GHOST HOSPITAL , THE TIME OF FEAR AND
CONFUSION (18 M AY 1789)
    The white ghosts wrapped Arabanoo in a cloth. They carried him away. They would put him in a hole.
    A woman called Mrs Johnson had taken Booroong. It was hard to tell which white ghosts were men and which were women, for their clothes covered the most important parts. Nanberry decided that those who wore long cloth to the ground were women. The long-skirted ones had no beards, though a few old ones had moustaches.
    Now there was just him in the hut where someone had died. He forced his mind not to even think the name of the dead man. Once someone had gone, even someone you loved — especially one you loved — you did not say his or her name till the stars had turned over in the sky.
    Someone screamed in another building not far away. The scream went on and on. This place smelt bad, of death and pain and blood.
    He had to leave! He had to find a place where no ghosts whispered. Under the trees? But people had died there too …
    It didn’t matter. He just had to get away from here. He pushed off the blanket, which was rough and scratchy, not soft like bungu fur, and put his feet on the ground. The sores had scabbed over; some of the scabs were even peeling off. But he still had to steady himself with his hand on the wall to stand.
    â€˜You, boy! What do you think you’re doing?’
    It was the man called Surgeon. Nanberry didn’t understand the words. To his horror, he felt himself begin to cry. He felt the man’s arms about his shoulders. The Surgeon’s voice said, ‘A hospital is no place for a child.’
    He didn’t understand. Nanberry tried to find a word the Surgeon would understand. ‘Dead. Go. Go.’
    â€˜Don’t worry. You’re coming home with me.’ The Surgeon hesitated, then said: ‘I am going to adopt you. You have no family, and nor do I. Your new name is Andrew Douglass Keble White. Can you say that?’
    â€˜Aggrew Dadabblite,’ said Nanberry.
    The Surgeon laughed. ‘Almost. And you will call me Father White . I am your new father now.’ He touched his chest and said the name again. ‘Father White.’
    Nanberry made the sounds carefully. He knew the man was giving him his name. ‘Father White.’
    â€˜Excellent! Good lad.’
    Nanberry felt himself lifted into the man’s arms and carried out the door. For a moment all he felt was relief that he was gone from the hut where a man had died. Then amazement took over.
    He peered from the man’s arms at the harbour. There was one of the murry nowey there again, bobbing on the waves as if it was a giant bark canoe. All around there were huts, and strange things growing, not grass or berry bushes or yams or anything hehad ever seen, but tall slim plants in straight lines. What magic had made plants grow in straight lines?
    And so many people, wearing filthy clothes that should have been left to rot under a tree. Most of them were hunched over like old men, even though they looked young. Not one had the muscles and shoulders of a warrior. Did the white ghosts cover their bodies because they were ashamed?
    At least Father White stood straight. He had a belly too, which meant that he was skilled enough to hunt good food. And he had taken him away from the death hut …
    Nanberry shut his eyes. He was tired. Too tired to think, or even look at all the wonders. This man had saved him once, when the fever took his family, and again today, sparing him from the place of