Nanberry peered down at the nets, excited by the splash of fish. The Surgeon smiled. The lad’s laughter was one of the great comforts of his life. All at once the boy looked up, his gaze entranced. ‘Father White! The big ship is sailing!’ The Surgeon looked over towards the rocky headland, his heart leaping with hope that it might be a ship from England. But it was only the tiny Supply. The Supply was the only ship the colony had left, now that the Sirius had been wrecked on Norfolk Island. It had been taking another load of convicts and supplies to the small outpost there — and the troublesome Major Ross, to try to stop him urging his marines to open rebellion. The Supply was heading for Batavia, in a desperate attempt to buy food to keep the colony alive through winter. There had been little from this year’s wheat harvest, although the corn crop had been good. The weekly ration was only two pounds of flour now, two pounds of salt meat or ten pounds of fresh fish, and a cup of rice-and-weevils or dried-peas-and-weevils.
