Chapter 1

+ CHAPTER 1 +

 

Christopher Sulongson

 

My name is Christopher Sulongson.   I was born with blue eyes and brown hair.  I am the oldest child, and I am just above my brother and my two sisters.

 

I have spent many years in primary and secondary educations at The Scots College, an all-boys’ school.

 

On the final year of high school at the age of 18, I watched myself on stage, receiving honours for excellent academic performance to my parents’ delight.

 

“We’re so proud of you, Christopher,” said a redheaded man who resembled me and he was much older than me.

 

“Thank you, Daddy,” I responded.

 

“Now that you’ve finished secondary education, you could attended one of the top universities in Sydney,” said a blond woman much older than me.

 

She was the same age as the redheaded man.

 

“That sounds great, Mommy,” I responded.  “What if I couldn’t get into one of the top universities with a course of my choice?”

 

“Any university would do, as long as you could finish a degree of your choice in postsecondary education,” replied my blond mother.  “After all, it is experience and people’s skills that are more important in the post-tertiary world.”

 

“At least a bachelor’s degree would be good,” said my redheaded father.

 

“Tahniah (Congratulations), Chris!” said a young man my age with olive skin, broad face, round eyes and raven hair.

 

“Terima kasih banyak (Thank you very much), Sudirman,” I responded.

 

“Pandai juga orang putih ini cakap Melayu (This white boy sure knows how to speak Malay),” said Sudirman, the raven-haired young man.

 

“Kau sudah lama tahu (You’ve known that for a long time),” I responded.  “Sekurang-kurangnya tidak ada orang berani hina aku dalam bahasa Melayu (At least no one would dare insult me in Malay).”

 

It was obviously the best day of my life that I have succeeded to finish the Higher School Certificate, but my high school friends have left me behind, on the other hand.

 

Unfortunately, I have had excellent grades, but it seemed UTS, UNSW and Sydney University have not accepted me for some reason.  Their requirements were too high even for a business course and it was difficult to enter.

 

“I am not going through the HSC again,” I thought.  “It was scrambling my brains.  I think people who enjoy taking the HSC over a period of time are torturing themselves.”

 

Hence, after successfully completing the Higher School Certificate, I enrolled in Curtin University in Sydney, Australia, in International Business the following year in 2008 (twenty O eight).

 

“Congratulations, Chris,”  .  “You’ve finally got yourself in university, and we’re proud of you.”

 

“I wouldn’t make it without your support, and I promise to repay your kindness,” .

 

Besides, Curtin Sydney was more convenient for me since I was able to catch the bus from Rose Bay and eventually catch a train from Edgecliff to Central, which was near the university campus.

 

“I’m glad that I chose this university instead,” I thought.  “It’s convenient and strategic.

 

Here, I realised that I was one of the very few White students, and most students there were Asians. 

 

I was particularly close with one Malaysian boy.

 

“My name is Demak,” said the Malaysian boy.

 

“I’m Christopher Sulongson,” I responded.  “I’m pleased to meet you.”

 

Soon, the class began, and we have to observed the lecturer speak and demonstrate important notes for us on the whiteboard.

 

Later, we have had lunch together at the East meets West café nearby on Regent Street.  The café was directly next to the Boston University campus.

 

We celebrated St Patrick’s Day on the 17^th of March.

 

“Say, isn’t Sulongson the anglicised name of Sulong?” asked Demak, the Malaysian boy.

 

“It is,” I replied.  “You see, my great-grandfather Liam was an Irish boy adopted by a Malay couple.  So, he took on his foster father’s last name, Sulong, and he anglicised it to Sulongson so that the White Australian policymakers won’t look at them suspiciously.  He also married a Malay woman and she was fortunate that she could stay back during the early years of the Australian Federation.”

 

“Oh yes, the White Australia Policy tried to bar all non-White immigration to Australia, and turned it into an exclusive all-White party,” said Demak.

 

“Yes, and finally, the White Australia Policy was abolished in 1974,” I responded.   “Since then this allowed countless migrants from all over the world regardless of colour to settle in Australia.”

 

“Oh, I see,” Demak responded.  “Please, tell me more about your great-grandfather Liam.  I’d like to know more.”

 

The year was 1874.  The British Empire was at its peak, and Australia was part of the mighty Empire until it became a Federation in 1901.

 

The Central Queensland town of Malmesbury was filled with people speaking various British accents – mostly southern English, northern English, Irish and Scottish.  While the most visible minority were the Chinese.  As demonstrated with Cantonese as their lingua franca, they came mostly from the province of Guangdong in south-eastern China.

 

Mr Ujang and Mrs Melor Sulong have just arrived from Malaya and they settled in a town just outside of Sydney.  They were the only non-Chinese Asians who came to the city at the time besides the few Indians that the British brought as their servants and caravan workers.

 

The Sulongs did not only bring with them their entrepreneurial skills, but also their only child – a four years old son by the name of Demang.  They opened a grocery store that opened from 9 to 5.

 

A little girl smiled at Demang while they exchanged looks.

“Good afternoon!” greeted Demang.

 

“Good afternoon!” greeted back the little girl.

 

“Come along, child,” said a young woman in a tight fitting long-sleeve gown with a bell-shaped skirt reaching to the ground.  “We must not talk to strangers.”

 

Obvious, ‘strangers’ to the White woman’s opinion was a racist subtext.  You could clearly see she was racist towards the Sulongs.  One could see her immediate fear by walking away from the Sulongs.

 

They were grocery store owners, but they also grew fruits and vegetables of their own.  They decided to open their business in an area just outside of the Northern Queensland town of Malmesbury.

 

Many White people looked suspicious upon the newly arrived Malay migrants since they were not European in cultural or physical traits, but some were kind to them.  The O’Dohertys were among them.  The O’Dohertys were a farming family that lived just outside of Sydney at the time.

 

Killian and Ashling O’Doherty knew the Sulongs would buy their bulk goods with a reasonable price, and sell them at a reasonable price for the local customers.  The other reason why the O’Dohertys came to their grocery store was because the Sulongs have had a son who was the same age as Liam and Niall O’Doherty, who were twin brothers.

 

Back in the O’Doherty farm, everyday Killian and Ashling woke up at dawn and they worked in the farm right into the evening. 

 

They inherited this farm from Killian’s parents, and Killian was the first to be born and raised in the farm.  Both Killian’s parents and Ashling’s parents were ex-convicts who earned an honest living as farmers after they were freed from harsh prison in 1850.  Before that, they came to Australia as 9-year-old convict children.  They originally worked as child labourers in the workhouse but they were sent as convicts to Australia because they were malnourished and mistreated children who stole bread.

 

It was at this inherited farm that they cultivated potatoes and then they sold these potatoes at the nearest town market.  Ashling was often seen with a bonnet except when she was working, where she and her husband wore straw hats.

 

They also kept roosters, hens and cows at the farm.  They milked the cows and sell eggs to supply the consumer market, as means to generate extra income.  The remaining dairy products were left for the family’s home consumption.  They also produce sheep wool.

 

Liam and Niall were chasing after the roosters, hens and ducks in the open fields.  They made startling noises that terrified the flight mammals, like many bored little boys would do.  Finally, Killian and Ashling taught them to feed those winged creatures as a better way to pass their time.

 

On one bright sun shiny day, the family of four picnicked together in the meadow.  Killian and Ashling carried Liam and Niall happily into their arms.  The parents explained and showed their children various beautiful species of birds, plants and insects around their farm. 

 

A conversation evolved when the twin boys were two.

 

Liam pointed at a ginger creature with pointy ears, whiskers, four legs, and big eyes.

 

“Look, a cat,” said Liam.

 

“A cat goes…” said Ashling, who intended to educate him by giving a hint.

 

“Meow!” said Liam, imitating the feline’s greeting.

 

“Good boy, Liam!” said Ashling joyously when she kissed his forehead and hugged him shortly afterwards.

 

“Thank you,” said Liam.

 

“What is that, Niall?” asked Killian, pointing to a horniall grass-eating animal with mainly white colour and black patches.  There was a bell attached to its neck.

 

“That’s a cow,” replied Niall.

 

“A cow goes…” said Killian, who also intended to test Niall.

 

“Moo!” responded Niall.

 

“Good boy, Niall,” said Killian, who kissed Niall on the forehead, and hugging him shortly afterwards.

 

One day, sparks of ferocious flames vanquished an outback house and the nearby barn.  The O’Doherty couple first chased all their livestock out and then they escaped from their property with their sons.  Ashling pushed a two-wheeled wooden wagon after she placed her twin sons in it.

 

Suddenly, sounds of gunshots filled the air.  A pack of nine gunmen stalked the family of four from behind on feet.  Killian managed to shoot down only a few of them with his shotgun before he noticed that he was short of ammunitions.  They remained further away from the O’Dohertys, as the family moved forwards.

 

Suddenly, two thundering shots came from behind her.  She grunted in pain and she felt weak.  She dropped a light, rectangular object onto the boat.  Her right leg and back were wounded.  She was unable to get up.

 

The shared priority of Killian and Ashling was to free their live stocks before urgently heading towards the gushing water current.  The sky grew darker.  A place of paradise once fulfilled with abundant hopes for the family had eventuated into a living inferno.  She pushed a wooden two-wheeled wagon after placing her sons on it.

 

Suddenly, gunshots preoccupied the troubling scene.  A pack of nine gunmen wearing bush hats stalked the family of four from behind on feet.  Killian managed to shoot down only three of them with his shotgun and he was then short of ammunitions.  They remained further away from the O’Dohertys, as the family moved forward.

 

After leaving the cart by the bank, she had rushed to approach a small boat, and it was just some distances ahead of them.

 

Suddenly, the sounds of two thundering shots have bolted and Ashling groaned in pain and overcame with feebleness.  She dropped a light, rectangular white object onto the boat.  Her right leg and back were wounded.  She was unable to ascend herself from the ground. 

 

“Máthair!” cried out Liam and Niall.

 

“Ashling!” Killian cried out, seeing his vulnerable wife.

 

The outlaws were a few steps away from one another and he walked back to her.  He briskly carried her to the wagon and placed her onto it before he decided to do the same with their twin sons.  Then, he hastily pushed the wagon into the bush before the vicious outlaws could spot them.  The moment the wagon stopped moving, Killian and the twin brothers crowded around their beloved wife and mother.

Killian stood next to his wife, and said, “Ashling, you are destined to be my sole beloved wife.  The becoming of our dear sons without you concerns me.”

“Yes, it concerns me too, but my fate shall be sealed,” Ashling said.  “Killian, I now entrust our sons in your care.  Farewell, my loved ones.” 

Ashling had her eyes closed with tears dropped after she said her final words.

Killian checked her pulse and there was no response from her. 

“Ashling!” Killian bellowed.

“Máthair!” bellowed the twins.

Ashling had just passed away.

Killian confronted the six members of the Bushranger Gang, who have been watching the O’Dohertys.  They were approaching closer and closer.  He stood in front of his heirs like an impenetrable fortress.

“I will never forget my hatred of you for my wife’s death!” said Killian.  “I have lost her, but you shan’t also end my sons’ fate!”  

“Since you can’t pay us protection money, we shall confiscate your land,” said a crooked nose man with ghastly pasty complexion and hay-coloured hair.

“We shall not sell our farm to you, Mister Savage,” responded Killian.  “Never shall my family be amongst the hunger-stricken vagrants.”

“Don’t impugn me, Mister Killian O’Doherty!” replied Mister Savage. 

The bandit replied, “Do not defy us – pay your tribute to us or you and your sons’ deaths will suffice our necessity!”

“Perhaps your greediness is lackin’ your wisdom and you have inhumanly burdened those who wish to avoid poverty,” responded Killian.  “If such is your thought, this is what you will deserve!”

He then threw his unloaded gun at the outlaws and it hit two among them. 

While the distracted bushrangers fought amongst themselves, Killian pushed his wagon forward as fast as he could within the bushes, wishing to reach an empty boat ahead of him.  As he reached his destination, he parked the wagon.

Before taking the twins out, Killian said, “Liam and Niall, we must now stick together and help one another.  If I die, you boys must promise to be strong and protect each other from bad people.  You must also remember to be good.”

“We promise, Athair!” replied both the twins.

Killian gripped onto the boat’s rope with one of his hands, deciding to first place Liam onto the boat.

Killian suddenly froze and he felt an instant physical frailness striking him.  He was lying down helplessly near the riverbank after getting shot. 

“Athair!” said both the twins.

Soon, Killian lied helplessly on the grassy ground, and stared endless at the sky above.

“We got you now!” said the Savage looking bandit, seeing Killian from a distance.

A sharp shooting bullet disconnected the gripping rope.  As the water vehicle conveyed itself further away from the riverbank, Liam found it difficult to reach Niall.  He feared of drowning, for the distance forbade him to set foot onto the riverbank.  As a result, Niall, in turn, couldn’t get himself onto the boat.  A bushranger had missed the chance of shooting both the nearby twins.

A spontaneous movement of the gushing river overtook the boat.  As Niall chased after the boat, both he and Liam cried while they separated from each other. 

“Liam!” yelled Niall.

“Niall!” Liam yelled back.

Gradually, the flowing riverboat disappeared from Niall’s sight, and vice versa for Liam’s inability to see his twin brother.  The bushrangers approached Niall in small steps.  They decided to leave Liam all by himself on the flowing water vehicle.

“There is nothing to worry.  His helplessness is a dear to the crocodiles, as they could not deny his fresh meat,” was what these villainous men thought. 

There was nothing left in this conflagration save the burning house and barn.  A choking thick smoke filled the air.  Niall ran away as fast as a cheetah to the nearest bushes before the merciless outlaws could catch up with him.  A missed shot was made. 

He had been hiding beneath a bush plant.  A surrounding cluster of tall sub-tropical trees and bush plants prevented him from being easily spotted.  Suddenly, he accidentally broke a twig.  The bandits turned their heads around as they heard the distinct noise.

“Show yourself, little friend!  We know you are out there!  Now, be a good boy, and we promise not to hurt you,” said the pale man with blond hair.

Niall stayed under the bush plant for a while until the coast was clear from the bushrangers’ walkabouts.  He managed to run from one tree to another.  Suddenly, in a more exposed place, he saw a pair of boots in front of him.  He walked backwards and what he saw next, frightened him.  The man looked familiar.  He was wearing a wide-brimmed bush hat and he had brown hair and bushy moustache. 

“Go away!  Leave me alone!” said Niall, as he stepped on the man’s foot. 

When the boy started running away from him, he groaned and placed his hands on his crotch.

Niall cried for his life, as he feared for the unscrupulous bushrangers.  They approached the innocent small boy and gun-pointed him, without showing any sign of love.  They were all so well prepared to pull the triggers at any moment. 

“Save your bullets first, Mister Gwynedd,” responded the pale blond man, talking to the brown-headed.  “I first wish to congratulate our almost fulfilled mission for the death of the O’Doherty couple today.”

“I, Mister Reid, concur to you, Mister Gywnialld and Mister Savage,” said a moustached red haired man, who had a harsh accent. 

Mister Savage said, “Excellent, gentlemen.  Now, let us not postpone our precious time and wrangle the last of the O’Dohertys in our joyous victory!”

“You’re joining your family in heaven, son!  Let us rejoice to his approachin’ death!” said Mister Gwynedd in his quite incomprehensible accent.

“Death to the O’Dohertys!” said the remaining three unknown recruits of the Bushranger Gangs.

“For the Bushranger Gangs!” shouted out the rest of his team.

Niall could not escape anywhere and he continued crying.  He was encircled and cornered to a big tree.  He was drawn closer to the end of his life.

When the chocolate-haired Mister Gunman was about to shoot Niall down, a loud thundering sound came from nowhere and the evil man suddenly dropped to the ground, moaning with pain.

Niall managed to sneak away from them.

“Cease this or we will shoot!”

It was a man dressed in blue overalls with gold buttons on his shirt and a hat with its distinguishable black front brim.  He looked like a top local official.  It was a man no other than Ciaran Gallagher, the undercover police superintendent with his teammates of justice.  He was the only Irishman in his squad.  He was a moustached man with hazel hair and pair of eyes.  All of them were riding their horses whilst they were chasing after the bushrangers.

“Do not move away and stay where you are!” warned an English policeman.

The bushrangers stopped. 

Ciaran was pointing his pistol at Niall. 

Niall cried out loud, “No!”

However, it was too late.  Ciaran had quickly pulled the trigger from his Le Mat revolver immediately after tearful Niall begged fearfully for his life. 

Strangely, it did not strike Niall.  It hit an unidentified young blond man behind him.  He was about to take Niall as hostage but failed to do so.  His gun fell off his hand before he even dropped onto the ground.

The police team managed to shoot down two Bushranger Gang recruits.  The remaining four leading outlaws managed to escape into the bushes after the police decided to chase after them.  They gave some shots but missed out as the remaining criminals ventured out into the forest, and vanished from sight.

“Do not lose hope – soon enough we will appoint them with the gallows,” said the English officer.

“How cruel are those madmen intending to murder a weak innocent little boy?”  asked Ciaran.  “I am rather disgusted by such atrocity that the world is coming to.”

Ciaran saw dead Killian’s hand gripping onto something.  He spread out Killian’s clenching fist.  It was a scrunched up note that the deceased was hanging onto.  He began reading it as soon as he picked it up, and he did not seem joyous soon after that. 

“Least be your fears, child,” said Ciaran, who hugged the boy and caressed his head – wanting to rid his feeling of apprehension.  “Me duty is to defend you and assist you in the best way I can, to honour your family’s name.”

The house of the mayor of Townsville resembled that of a Victorian manor.  It was here a dark-headed man in his suit and tie sat in his office desk.  Next to him stood two men – one was Superintendent Ciaran Gallagher, who wore an overall blue uniform and hat, and the other was his assistant, Mister James Holloway.  Three knocks were made on the door. 

The mayor stood up and walked to the front of his desk and he said, “Come in.” 

“Good morning, Sir Hastings!” said Mister James Holloway.

“Good morning, Sir Hastings!” said Ciaran the Superintendent.

A slim Southeast Asian man of average height who was in his black suit set and tie, stood at a dressing table in a lavish room.  As he opened up one of the drawers, there was a lady shouting out of fear.  As he was about to leave the mansion to escape, the resident guard stopped him and he was later sent him to his European master that day. 

Standing before Sir Hastings, Mister James Holloway and Superintendent Gallagher was his average-built man of Southeast Asian physical appearance with black hair and brown skin.  It was Sir Hastings’ butler Musang Maling.

“Is it within your intention to steal from me, Mister Maling?” asked Sir Hastings.

“It was not within my intention to commit such misconduct,” denied Musang.

“Then explain your unorthodox entrance and doing in my bedroom that profoundly fightened my wife and daughter earlier this morning?” asked Sir Hasting, who looked more furious than he ever was. 

Musang took off his jacket and shook it about.  Shortly afterwards he pulled out his pocket trousers inside out. 

“Your Excellency, I fear nothing, for I perpetuated no theft,” said Musang arrogantly. “See this – my hands are clear of such possession.  Verily, you have absence of proof to accuse me of such defaming immorality.”

The maid whispered something to her employer and handed him an envelope.  He nodded after receiving it, and seeing that an accumulation of paper monies in it, he thanked her.  He then took out a note of figures and quickly counted the cash.

“If you perpetuated no theft, then explain to me why the cash content of this envelope is £5,000 short, out of its total of £10,000?” asked Sir Hastings, who simultaneously showed the calculation of a few figures with its total at the bottom.

“Perhaps someone else had taken out the remaining £5,000 simply to frame me as a thief,” replied Musang. 

Musang was moving his waistband around, and then suddenly, there were rectangular palm-size papers falling onto the ground.  Everyone was astounded as soon as they witnesses Musang showing his true colours.

“It seems that you have spoken against yourself, Mister Maling,” said Ciaran, holding a cash bundle.  “I have here in my possession the remaining £5,000, of which I believe they fell from inside your waistband.”

“How does a butler like you come to own such wealth as that, Mister Maling?  Family owned, I suppose?” asked Sir Hastings.  “It is undoubtedly suspicious given that you have the wage of £100 during your one month accommodation in my household.  If the money is yours, why then do you appear frightened?  You’ve just apprehended yourself as the thief, Mister Musang Maling, and the Superintendent is able to press charges against you.”

“It is unwise to conceal your scandal, Mister Maling,” said Ciaran.  “Your misconduct had evidently deduced you as the thief.”

“Uh, I, I…” said Musang, stammering and unable to complete a sentence.

“You what, Mister Maling?” asked Sir Hastings.

“You are left with no other alternative, Mister Maling,” said Ciaran.  “You either return in hand Sir Hastings’ financial asset or you will be sent to prison for seven years in hard labour.”

“You all will regret this!” said Musang revengefully.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mister Maling!” said Sir Hastings, appalled at Musang’s misconduct.  “Have you no sense of dignity?”

“I find your efforts reprimanding him wise, Your Excellency,” said Mister Holloway.  “Mister Maling must learn to brush up his erred ways. I also salute your best efforts in keeping order in society, Superintendent.”

“There is no need for your salutation, Sir Hastings, for I am a humble man,” replied Ciaran.  “My sole duty is to serve the society’s well-being.”

Sir Hastings responded, “Do not be coy, Superintendent Gallagher, for your service is worth the appraisal.”

“Thank you for your kind thoughts, Your Excellency,” replied Ciaran.

“My utmost pleasure, Ciaran,” said Sir Hastings.

“Your efforts today are honestly praiseworthy, Superintendent Gallagher,” said Mister Holloway.  

“Indeed, but it was not simple without the presence of His Excellency himself to the Malays,” said Ciaran, showing his sense of humbleness.

Seemingly hurried, Ciaran bade goodbye to the two gentlemen; “Your Excellency and Mister Holloway – please permit me to leave our social circle now.  I urgently attend to an important duty at the police station.”

“Please stay with us a little longer the next time,” said Sir Hastings.

“I will not plainly comply, unless you give me a sound reason to force me,” said Ciaran.

“Very well, I shall force you with sound reason to join a tea party of ours next week in commemoration of your commendable action,” replied Sir Hastings.

“Then I will gladly attend it by your command, Your Excellency,” said Ciaran.

“Very well, off you go,” said Sir Hastings.

“Good day, Mister Holloway and Your Excellency!” replied Ciaran.

“Good day, Superintendent!” responded Sir Holloway.

“Until we meet again,” added Ciaran.

All three men bowed at each other before Ciaran departed and looked rather quite uneasy.

“He looks rather anxious, don’t you think, Mister Holloway?  Is something bothering him?” asked Sir Hastings, who looked puzzled at this very moment.

“I have not the slightest clue, Your Excellency,” replied Mister Holloway with a blank face.

 A man with dark hair and brown eyes wore a black necktie placed on an end folded neck-collar of a white shirt.  They went with a matching grey pair of coat and trousers. Atop his head was a tall brimmed hat.  There was a young lady with dark blonde tresses and blue eyes, wearing her elegant cream-coloured gown with a bell-shaped skirt, standing next to him.  They brought along with them their cuddly light brown-haired little daughter, who was wearing a salmon pink gown. 

They were about to report a matter to a superintendent at the police station. 

“Your Excellency, how good it is to see you,” Ciaran greeted courteously.  “How may I be of service?” 

At the end of the urgent confidential conversation, he promised to come to the rescue instantaneously, and soon the family of three exited the police station. 

They have had an enjoyable walk around the country town, and have entered a few shops and their coachman took the shopping items and placed into the coach.  Suddenly, a startling sound of a thunderbolt occurred.  At that very moment, Sir Arthur Hastings moaned in pain and fell down to the ground.  It was in the middle of the town.

The wife screamed, and then she shouted, “Arthur!”

“Father!” cried out the little girl, who was approaching him and she was crying.

“Help!” the mother called out.  “The mayor had been shot!”

Everyone noticed her, and busily tried to rush over to help her out. 

At that very moment, their daughter saw a figure of a person standing and hiding around the corner of a building.  It was a mouth-masked man with a blue police uniform and the front brimmed hat had overshadowed his face.  Soon, he vanished into thin air.  Coincidentally, her mother also turned to that direction, frowning, until the mysterious image disappeared from her sight.

Soon, Ciaran, who was wearing the same uniform as the masked man, and his colleagues appeared on the scene, startled to see the physically weak mayor on the ground.  They helped to carry and place him in a station wagon.  His wife and daughter were by his side.  Ciaran and one of his colleagues accompanied the family of three, along with a minister.  A man flogged a horse and it galloped as fast as it could, of which it drove forth the wagon behind it.

“Father, why are you ill?” asked their little daughter, cried in sadness. 

 

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