Free Nanberry by Jackie French Page B

Surgeon dryly. ‘Don’t let him eat too many. There’ll be no more carrots till the new crop next summer.’ He opened the back door. ‘Andrew!’
    The boy didn’t even look up. The Surgeon called again. ‘Andrew?’
    The boy looked around, then stood up and made his way over to him. He wore his shirt and trousers, but no boots.
    â€˜Father White?’
    â€˜Come, Andrew, wash your hands and put your boots on.’ He spoke slowly and clearly, so the boy could understand each word.
    The child looked at him for a moment, a carrot in his hand. ‘My name is Nanberry Buckenau,’ he said quietly.
    â€˜Not this again! Your name is Andrew White.’
    â€˜My name is Nanberry.’ The child clutched his carrot, as though fearful of his adoptive father’s anger, but still determined.
    The Surgeon sighed. The lad was too young to realise a good English name would help him. And he had lost so much. Perhapsit was best to let him keep his old name for now. ‘Nanberry, then,’ he said. ‘Nanberry White.’
    The boy considered. Suddenly he smiled, his face brightening like the harbour gleamed after a winter. ‘Nanberry White!’ He held out the carrot to the Surgeon. ‘Are you hungry?’
    The Surgeon laughed. ‘Not for raw carrots, young man. We’re going down to the harbour.’
    The smile grew wider. For a second White thought that the lad was going to dance in his excitement. ‘To go in ship?’
    â€˜In a boat. A big boat, not a little fishing boat. But it isn’t as big as a ship. A boat is a little ship.’
    â€˜In a big boat!’ It was as though he had given the lad the crown jewels.
    Nanberry stared down at the harbour, the white caps of the waves gleaming in the sunlight. ‘Will more ships come soon? Big ships?’
    â€˜Yes, of course,’ the Surgeon lied. You couldn’t tell a child of the fear that no ship would ever come from England, that they had been forgotten, that some idiot in the Admiralty had retired and the whole project had been abandoned, to be found in the files in a decade, too late to send rescue. Perhaps there would never be a ship, or new stores, or gunpowder to keep them safe. And they would vanish into the vastness of this unknown continent. ‘Yes,’ he said again, almost to reassure himself. ‘A big ship will come soon.’
    â€˜Father White? May-I-please,’ Nanberry made it sound like all one word, ‘go on a big ship when a big ship come?’
    â€˜Yes, lad. Now put your boots on.’
    The boy ducked inside the storeroom, grabbed his boots and thrust his feet into them with no thought of stockings. ‘Father White, do we go on the boat to find birds?’
    The Surgeon felt a smile spreading across his face. The lad loved bird-watching as much as he did. He had an extraordinarytalent for finding the creatures too. He could even stand still for half an hour, while the Surgeon sketched a honeyeater poking its beak into flowers, moving as little as possible so he didn’t scare the bird away.
    â€˜Not this time, Andrew … I mean Nanberry . The Governor has a job for you to do. An important one.’
    The boy looked up at him trustingly. The Surgeon took the small fingers within his own. Black fingers, thin and dark against his own red and white hand.
    Yes, he was a good lad. Clever and helpful. But this boy was not his son, not really, just as the girl in there was not his daughter, nor the Governor a friend. Phillip was a good man, but that was, in truth, all they had in common: two good men among a company of villains, trying to do their best. He was alone, cast down to the bottom of the world, away from all that he held dear.
    He shut his eyes briefly, and prayed. If a ship came, let it bring not just food, but new orders, new soldiers to guard the colony, a new surgeon and news of a new posting for me. Please, oh Lord, let me go home.
    He