Emily (28 page)

Captain Martin looked taken aback. ‘In Australia? Are there not ladies aplenty ashore in England?’

Philip agreed. ‘I’m sure there are, sir, but not to
my fancy.’ He hesitated, then asked, ‘Are all the convicts on board, sir?’

‘All below, ’tween decks.’ He looked grim. ‘They’re going to be uncomfortable for a day or two but I daren’t let them out until we’re well at sea. Some of them might try to jump overboard if they see the homeland disappearing.’

‘Are they all well, sir?’

He shrugged. ‘As well as can be expected after being in gaol. Some of them are troublemakers so I’ve been told, the women as well as the men, but there’s no sickness that I know of.’

The captain moved away, then turned back. ‘Don’t be tempted by the women, Mr Linton. I know that officers have the pick of ’em, but it’s not wise, they’ll pass on the clap sure as eggs is eggs.’

‘They’re surely not all whores, sir?’ Philip said quietly.

Captain Martin shrugged. ‘Perhaps not, but I wouldn’t take a chance. But no time for this, Mr Linton. We’re outward bound on the morning tide.’

‘All hands to quarters!’ A drumbeat sounded.

‘Aye, aye, sir.’

‘Away aloft!’

‘Aye, aye, sir.’

‘Ease away. Let go the brails. Handsomely does it!’

Philip stood on the quarterdeck as orders were given. This wasn’t his watch. His orders were to keep an eye on the surgeon, though he had been given the dog watch also; but as he felt the timbers
move beneath his feet and heard the creak of the canvas as the sails were trimmed, and with a fair wind sighing, he became part of the whole as officers and crew obeyed their instructions implicitly and the great ship slipped her moorings and slid gently out of harbour, down the Thames and towards the open sea.

As Emily’s eyes became accustomed to the darkness and made out the state of their captivity, she was overcome with misery, despair and self-pity and only wanted to sink to the floor and die. I have no reason to live. No-one to live for. Why should I make any effort to prolong my life? If there was just someone, someone who could hold my hand, bring a word of comfort or even take a crumb of comfort from me, though I would find it an effort to give it, I just might find a reason for my existence.

She elbowed her way through the crush of women to where bunks were placed on either side of the deck, all the way to the bows. Here was where they would sleep, with their ankles still ironed to add to their discomfort. A grated barricade spiked with iron had been built across the ship at the steerage bulkhead and though there was only gloom, she was sure she could see eyes watching them and hear the whisper of voices. At the other end was another barricade, behind which were the male convicts, or the government men as they were called by the gaolers. They had cheered the women
as they’d arrived and some were making lewd suggestions. There is no privacy, she grieved, and looked around for a place where she wouldn’t be seen and found a top bunk close to a hatch, where she hoped for a little air.

The door opened again and another dozen women were herded into the already crowded space. ‘Get your hands off me, cur!’ A woman’s voice hurled a stream of expletives at the sentry who had thrust her down the companionway, and cast a slur on his birth, his mother, his father and his grandparents. The cursing was so rich and strong and explanatory that in spite of her misery, Emily couldn’t help but smile. If only I could be so brave, she thought. If only I could be so fearless instead of weak and afraid.

The woman pushed her way through the crowd of women, some of whom were milling around in confusion, whilst others had simply sat down on the deck planking, weeping and crying. ‘No use wailing,’ she shouted at them. ‘It won’t do you a ha’porth o’ good. You’ve got to stand up to ’em, otherwise ’beggers’ll grind you down.’

Emily sat forward. I know that voice. But from where? It was a northern voice, not one of the strange mixtures she had heard in the London gaol, not southern or Cornish or middle England, but an accent that was familiar. ‘Meg!’ she breathed. ‘Can it be?’

‘Meg!’ she called out, an edge of hysteria in her voice. ‘Meg! Is it you?’

The woman stopped her grumbling. ‘Who knows me by me name?’ She moved towards Emily’s
corner, peering into the gloom and demanded, ‘Who knows me?’

Emily stood up. ‘It’s me,’ she said, with tears gathering in her eyes. ‘Emily Hawkins.’

Meg came slowly towards her. ‘Emily? Em from Hull?’

‘Yes.’ Tears streamed down Emily’s face. ‘From Kingston Street gaol.’

Meg stood in front of her. ‘Little Emily? They never sent you here, after all?’ She shook her head. ‘There’s no justice in this land.’

‘Meg!’ Emily’s voice trembled. ‘I’m so sorry that you are here in this terrible place, but I’m so glad, so very glad to see you.’

A tear coursed down Meg’s face, but she dashed it away and said softly, ‘And I’m so happy to see you again, Em. So very happy.’ She put out her arms and Emily did likewise and they hugged and cried and wept together.

They sat on the bunk and whispered in the darkness and Emily asked how Meg had come to be here. ‘Not whoring,’ Meg said bluntly. ‘They can’t get you for that. No, it was because I slandered ’magistrate. You remember, Em, at your hearing?’

Emily gasped. Surely Meg hadn’t been transported because of her?

‘I said I’d seen him at Queenie’s, which I had. He’s a visiting magistrate,’ she explained, ‘not a regular one from Hull, and every time he comes he goes to Queenie’s. I suppose he thinks his wife won’t find out if he plays away from home. I’ve seen ’other bloke there as well,’ she added. ‘That one who brought ’case.’

‘Hugo Purnell,’ Emily said, his name bitter on her tongue.

‘Aye, him. Well, when they took me down to ’cells after I’d yelled at him, I was accused of slander and they locked me up again. And while I was waiting in gaol for ’next hearing, ’police were sent to ’house where I lodge and found some stolen stuff. I swear to God I never took it, Em, but they said I did. It was silver and such and what would I do with owt like that? Anyway, I was sent to York, like you was, and must have followed you here. Though I never knew. I thought you’d got off ’charge! Somebody said that you had, but I can’t read ’newspaper and nobody else I know can either.’

‘They dropped ’charge about the baby,’ Emily said, ‘but I was charged on ’damage to the painting, which I admitted, and sentenced to three years’ transportation.’

Meg smiled a grim smile. ‘You know why, don’t you?’

Emily nodded. ‘The gaols are full in England.’

‘Hah! Don’t you believe it! And it’s not because of what you did. It’s because they need young lasses out in ’colonies! There’s so many men out there, they need ’women to keep ’em quiet. They’re going to fill ’country wi’ troublemakers, give ’em a wife and hope they’ll breed and stop there.’

‘I can’t believe what you’re saying! They wouldn’t do such a thing!’ Emily was horrified.

‘You don’t really think that you’ll be allowed back, do you?’ Meg’s voice was cynical. ‘How would you get back? Who’d pay your passage?
’Government’s not going to, not when they’ve taken trouble to send you out! Men can get back if they’ve a mind to, they can work their passage on board ship. I know one who did, but ’women –’. She shook her head. ‘Don’t even think about it, Emily. If you survive ’journey, then you’re there for good. Don’t gather up any hopes. We’ll not be coming back!’

An officer came with a guard to instruct them on procedure. He told them to form groups of six and the six were to share each bunk. They were each given a straw mattress, a blanket and a thin pillow, a wooden bowl and spoon. One woman from each group would be elected matron and organize the collection and distribution of food. ‘Think yourselves lucky that conditions have changed for the better,’ he shouted at them. ‘You wouldn’t have had such comforts a few years ago.’

He said they would be given a kettle to share with three other groups so that they could make a drink and once they were under sail they would be allowed on deck and allowed to wash and be given clean clothing. Some of the women were wearing little more than rags and they shivered in the cold. Emily still had her cloak, but she feared she would lose it before the voyage was over. It was dirty and torn at the hem, but it was warm and she wrapped it around herself and Meg when they slept.

‘God bless you, Em,’ Meg murmured. ‘You’re such a comfort to me.’

‘I? No, it’s you that comforts me.’ Emily pondered on when she had first met Meg and had
been so disgusted by her manners and appearance. ‘I didn’t want to live before you came on board, Meg. Now I know that I can go on. You’re so brave.’

Meg started to weep at her words. ‘I’m not brave. I’m terrified! And I’ve never in my life had anyone who cared about what became of me. Not my ma or my da, whoever he was, not till that day when you sent your Christmas dinner to me. You could have kept it, but you didn’t. You thought of me and nobody has ever done that afore. I’ll never forget that. Never till my dying day!’

Meg was elected the leader of their group. The decision was unanimous as she was the one who dared to ask for what was required. She was given an extra blanket for one member of their group, an elderly woman who shivered with the cold and who, the others whispered, would never reach her destination.

They had no conception of time during the period they spent in port as no light came through the hatches, but one day as Emily lay sleepless on the bunk, she suddenly felt a different movement, not the gentle rocking she had become accustomed to but a deeper plunging and rolling and she heard too the sound of commands being given, of voices answering and the rushing tread of feet above them. ‘Meg,’ she whispered urgently, ‘I think we’re moving. We are! We’re under sail!’

‘God help us!’ Meg leant on one elbow. ‘I’m that scared, Emily.’

Other women were sitting up too, looking from one to another in their anxiety. Some were praying, others were crying and soon the noise they made
grew louder as their fear spread to each other.

‘Quiet!’ A sentry opened the door; he had a rifle in his hand. ‘Less noise down there.’

‘Are we sailing?’ Meg scurried across to him. ‘Tell us what’s happening, for God’s sake.’

‘Aye, we’re sailing all right. Breathe in your last breath of English air!’

‘What? Down here?’ Meg said defiantly. ‘There’s been no air down here since we came on board! Open ’hatches for us! Go on, we can’t get a breath.’

‘Can’t.’ He started to close the door. ‘Orders. You’ll come up when we’re clear of England.’

‘Clear of England! I can’t wait!’ Meg muttered and turned away. Then she caught sight of a male convict staring at her through the barricade. ‘Who you looking at?’ she demanded and thrust her face towards him. ‘Haven’t you seen a woman afore?’

‘Not for a long time,’ he answered quietly. ‘You’d be well advised not to cause trouble for yoursen.’

‘Trouble!’ she muttered. ‘I was born to it, mister.’ The ship gave a sudden lurch and she grabbed hold of the barricade to stop herself falling. The man laughed and she scowled at him and shook her fist. ‘Bleeding government men. Pimps and thieves!’

‘Aye, that’s us, missus.’ He stared at her through the bars, a look of resignation on his face. ‘No good for owt.’ He suddenly started to sing, his voice cracked and distorted as if in pain.

‘Old England don’t want us
and nor does our queen
We’re thieves and we’re murderers
not fit to be seen
So we’re off to Australia
in a tall ship so grand
For England don’t want us
in her fair pleasant land.’

His face worked as if in emotion and he wiped his nose on his sleeve. Meg fell silent. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I didn’t mean owt.’

The other men took up the words and started to sing too, loudly and boisterously as if to hide their feelings, though there were some who couldn’t sing for weeping.

‘First time I’ve ever said sorry to a fella in my life.’ Meg climbed back onto the bunk next to Emily. ‘It’s you, Em.’ She gave a lopsided grin, but her voice was choked. ‘You’re mekking me soft.’

‘They’re maybe not all wicked,’ Emily said quietly. ‘And they’ll all be leaving somebody behind. A mother, wife or children maybe.’

‘Aye.’ Meg lay down on the bunk again. ‘That chap yonder. He didn’t sound as if he came from these parts, London I mean. No, he sounded more like from our way.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘I’ve probably met him at some time. There’s few that I haven’t.’

For two days they were tossed and thrown about as the ship ran into deep water. Many of the women were sick and the stench became unbearable. Meg and some of the other matrons hammered on the door and pleaded with the sentry to open the door or hatches to let in some air, but their request was refused. Finally on the third day, when most lay in
a sick stupor, the hatches rattled and were drawn to one side and a dim light came through the bars from the deck above. The door opened and an officer and two guards appeared.

‘Fifty women, ten at a time, can come up,’ said the officer. ‘I want no trouble. If you give any you’ll come straight down again and be given only bread and water for a week.’

‘Well, we wouldn’t want to miss out on our little luxuries, now would we?’ Meg began, but was hushed by Emily and the other women as they queued to take their turn to go up on deck. But it took so long. As each woman reached the upper deck she was given a number which corresponded with her name on a list, and this number was pinned to her clothing. They were allowed up on deck for half an hour and then brought below again to give the others a turn.

Emily and Meg were in the last fifty to get their numbers and go on to the quarterdeck and by now the evening dusk was gathering. The sky was suffused with red and yellow and the sea reflected the colours, and it seemed as if the ocean was on fire. There was not a sign of land, not a shadow to show where they had come from; they were completely surrounded by water.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ Emily whispered, ‘but so vast.’ She stared around her at the mighty wastes of sea and then up into the sky. ‘We are like nothing out here.’ She gazed up at the masts and the rigging and the great white sails billowing and felt the power of the ship beneath her. ‘The
Flying Swan
,’ she murmured, ‘she’s well named.’