Paupers Graveyard (10 page)

‘Please, sir, my children will have to arrive alone in a completely new land.'

He took her by the arm and led her to the door. Pointing to the quayside and the mass of people huddled there, he explained, ‘There are two hundred and fifty seven of them that will board this ship in under an hour. Of that two hundred and fifty seven, there are forty-one orphans. Who do you think will be there to greet them? Go away, woman, and consider your children lucky to have a fine cabin and food enough for the journey.'

She knew it was no use arguing with him. This famine had made everyone hard.

The children were waiting expectantly for her return and rushed to greet her. Lucy could tell there was something wrong and held out a chair. Elizabeth sat and motioned for them to do the same. There wasn't a sound within the cabin as they waited for her to speak.

‘I sold my sapphire necklace and earrings today.' She held up a hand to stop their protestations of regret. ‘It had to be done, but that's not the problem. I haven't got enough money to pay for my own fare on this voyage.'

There were gasps of dismay and Charlotte started to cry. Taking her on her lap, Elizabeth continued, ‘Remember when your father died and I asked you all to be brave?' They nodded in unison. ‘Well, I'm asking you again. You must sail without me and I'll follow on later.'

‘Mamma! No!' Lucy threw her arms around her neck and Becky knelt at her feet, burying her face in her mother's lap, sobbing.

‘My cousin Andrew is a good man and will welcome you with open arms. He has no children of his own and will be good to you. If asked, he will send the money for my fare. Lucy, you will have to take over my job and see your sisters safely to their new home. It's not going to be easy, I know, but you must be brave for my sake.'

‘Oh, darling Mamma, is there no other way?'

‘No, there is no other way. I'll be fine knowing you are safe, and it won't be long until we are all together again.'

‘Mamma,' Charlotte sobbed, ‘I have a pain in my heart.'

‘We all have, my darling, but we must try to be brave.'

She sat holding them for a while until the clanging of the ship bell roused her. Looking outside, she could see that the loading had begun and it would soon be time to leave.

‘Get me the bags of clothes, please,' she asked, watching as they pulled them from under the bunks.

She searched inside, until she located what she was looking for. Taking out a small, leather-bound book she handed it to Lucy. It was a book of love poems that had been given to her by her husband on their wedding day. Inside, under his inscription of love, she had written Andrew's full name and address.

‘This is where you must go when you arrive,' she pointed to her writing. ‘Ask the way at the docks, then speak to no one and above all trust no one, no matter how kind they seem. It will be a different world there. You must be careful. Tell my cousin who you are and what is happening here, understand?'

‘Yes, Mamma.' Lucy took the book and stared at the familiar handwriting, hoping to find some salvation in the words.

‘Now, you two,' Elizabeth said, pulling the younger ones close, ‘you do as your sister tells you and be very, very good. I don't want to have to scold you the next time we meet.'

They tried to smile through their tears.

‘As soon as the ship sets sail bolt the door,' she ordered Lucy, ‘and keep it bolted at all times. The journey can take up to a month, and there's enough food to last that long if you are careful. Go outside only to empty the pot and to get water.'

A sudden knock on the door startled them. It was Mr Williams. He had been sent to take her ashore. ‘I'm sorry, madam, but the captain says you have to leave. We sail in ten minutes.'

‘Just one more minute,' she begged.

Unclasping her locket, she placed it around Lucy's neck. ‘Keep that with you always. It's all I have left to give you, my darling.'

‘I'll keep it safe until I see you again, Mamma. Then I will return it to you.'

‘Madam, please.'

He could wait no longer. Turning to the children, who were by now all sobbing again, she whispered, ‘I've loved you all from the moment I knew of your existence. I will love you unto eternity.'

‘We love you, Mamma,' Lucy answered for them all. ‘I'll keep them safe until you come for us.'

‘I know you will, child, and you'll always be in my thoughts and prayers. Remember everything I told you and bolt the door.'

With this she hurried away and had to be helped down the gangplank in her distress. Standing again on the quayside, she looked up at the huge ship that was taking her children, her very life from her.

‘Madam?'

The first mate was beside her. ‘I begged the captain to let you sail. If I had the money I'd willingly pay for your passage, but I haven't. I don't see how it would matter if you came. One more wouldn't sink us. These are strange times, and it's not only hunger that's killing people, but the hardening of hearts of those who could help.'

‘Thank you. You're very kind.'

‘I'll promise you one thing. I'll look out for your children and see that they are safe.'

‘God bless you, sir.' She started to cry and he helped her over to a capstan.

‘Have you friends or family in America?'

‘Yes, I have a cousin. They are going to live with him. They have his address. It's not far from where you will dock.'

‘Then I'll take them there myself.'

‘You will?'

‘I give you my word. There's many below deck that'll not survive this long trip, packed away as they are like cattle. But your children will and they'll thrive and prosper, just you wait and see.' A shout from the deck sent him running, but he stopped at the gangplank and called back to her, ‘I won't let you down, trust me.'

He was no sooner on board than the crew cast off. The ship moved slowly as, one by one, sails unfurled and were fastened in place. As the mainsail caught the wind and ballooned out, the vessel picked up speed and slid out of the harbour.

Elizabeth watched until the ship faded into the distance, its lamps shrinking to pinpoints of light against a black sky. In another time bystanders would have been struck by the absence of well-wishers waving it off and the sight of a lone woman hunched over and sobbing as though her heart would break.

The walk to the workhouse was terrifying for Timmy. The victims he had encountered on his way from the hospital were nothing compared to the hundreds lying diseased or dying at the entrance to the town. Many had fallen only yards from the workhouse gates, too weak to make it those last few steps. Although it was just over a year since the blight had struck, and the famine had not as yet reached its height, the workhouse was under severe strain. In the absence of any other aid, hundreds flocked to the gates each day. The tenants were the first to be affected by the blight, with so many already living in poverty. Now it was spreading its cloak over every part of the community. The rich were affected, not just by the famine, but also by the spread of disease. The smell of the blight was being replaced by the intolerable stench of disease.

In the overcrowded conditions sickness spread quickly. Without potatoes the inmates also developed scurvy, which caused teeth to drop out and joints to swell. In spite of these horrors contained within its walls, the workhouse was still the best chance of survival for many.

It took Timmy some time to squeeze his way to the gates. Uniformed officers armed with sticks beat at the bars, and at any stray hands that dared to protrude between them. Crowds of people were begging for food for loved ones fallen by the wayside, but they were sent away empty-handed. While there were vacancies within the workhouse no outside aid would be given. The officers tried as best they could to sort out the most needy cases. Timmy stood mute under the waving arms of the adults. He was sickened by the smell of their sweat, and his ears rang with their pleadings.

‘You, boy. What's your name?'

He looked up at the man behind the gates. ‘Timmy Walsh, sir.'

‘Where's your family, boy?'

‘Dead, sir.'

The huge gates opened a fraction and strong arms reached out to pull him inside and away from the surging crowd. He felt as though he had entered another world.

‘See that door on the right, son? Go in there.'

Timmy nodded and started to walk towards the building. As an afterthought he stopped, turned, and addressed his saviour. ‘Excuse me, sir?'

‘What is it, boy? Can't you see that I'm busy? Any questions you may have will be answered by those inside,' he turned back to the gates, shouting orders to those both inside and out.

Timmy walked back and tugged the leather belt at the man's waist. The officer's hand automatically reached for the holster containing his gun, before swirling around. Timmy jumped back and held up a hand to show he meant no harm. ‘I just wanted to say, thank you.'

The man nodded. ‘Save your thanks, boy. I'm not sure if I'm doing you any favour by letting you in here.'

‘Well, thanks all the same,' Timmy walked away towards his designated door, and the watching man scratched his head in wonder. His thoughts were soon interrupted by a shout from the gates, and he was forced to resume his position of command.

Timmy made his way across the courtyard. The entrance to the workhouse was like two large houses joined together by an archway. Others queued at the door. He studied them while waiting his turn. There were women with children in tow and bundles of rags under their arms, whole families and groups of lone children. All showed the signs of hunger in their gaunt faces and deeply shadowed eyes.

The woman in front of him turned around. ‘Are you on your own, lad?'

‘Yes, missus.'

‘All your people dead?'

‘Yes, missus.'

‘Sad times, eh lad, sad times.' She shook her head, and hoisted the child on her hip higher.

Timmy winked and the little one poked his tongue out at him. The few minutes spent waiting turned into a game of face-pulling that soon had the other children joining in. There was much giggling and laughter and the adults smiled at one another in appreciation at the sound.

‘What the hell is going on here?'

A man appeared in the open doorway and stood with hands on hips. All laughter ceased and smiles were replaced by worried frowns.

‘Do you find all this funny?' he looked around at the adults, and they answered solemnly, ‘No sir, it's not, sir, sorry, sir.' He glared at them again before going back inside.

‘Old bastard,' one of the women whispered. ‘Tormented by the sound of children's laughter.'

‘Ah, sure you'd be the same yourself if you looked like him, missus,' a man spoke up. ‘Sure hasn't he a face like a slapped arse.'

This sent the children into fits of giggles that were quickly stifled by adult hands.

Timmy's turn came. He peeped around the door before entering and saw four tables, with an officer seated behind each one. He walked over to the officer who signalled him.

‘What's your name, boy?'

‘Timmy Walsh, sir.'

This was scribbled down. ‘Where are your family?'

‘Dead, sir.'

‘Was it the fever, boy?'

‘No, sir. The hunger.'

‘But you look well enough. How can that be?'

‘I had the fever, sir. I was sick in the hospital for a long time.'

‘I see,' he noted this in the book. ‘They were dead when you returned?'

‘Yes,' Timmy whispered, ‘they were all dead to me.'

‘How old are you, boy?'

‘Nearly thirteen, sir.'

He raised his eyebrows doubtfully.

‘I am, sir, really. I was born late summer of '33.'

‘Very well. What did you father work at?'

‘He was a tenant, sir. Over at Maycroft Hall, Sir Charles Fitzwilliam's place, sir.'

‘Oh, yes, indeed,' nodded the officer, writing again in the book. When he had finished he looked up at the boy. ‘Listen to me, boy. In here anyone over twelve is considered fit for man's work. You don't look big or strong enough to survive breaking stones. I am putting down here,' he tapped his pen on the book, ‘that you are eleven.'

‘But I'm willing to work for my keep, sir.'

‘Oh, you'll work all right, boy, but it won't be as back-breaking or dangerous. Remember from now on you are only eleven. I can get into terrible trouble for falsifying documents.'

Timmy nodded.

‘Go through that door.'

Timmy saw people standing in lines and he turned once to nod at the officer who was watching him with a strange look on his face. If he could have read the man's thoughts he would have understood. Hundreds had passed before the man, but for some reason this small boy's plight had touched him the most.

Outside, men, women and children were divided into lines. Men and women were to live in one part of the workhouse, the children in another. It took some time for the orderlies to get all the adults sorted. Pitiful cries and shouts echoed as they were dragged across the yard to their designated blocks. Young children who were left behind stood in shocked silence or sobbed inconsolably, the bigger boys tried to brave it out, whistling as if this was an everyday occurrence. Their eyes, however, told a different story. Toddlers held tightly to sibling's hands as they were led away.

Timmy joined the procession as it moved towards another building. Each one was stopped and questioned at the entrance.

‘Have you family in here?' asked the woman at the door.

‘No, missus.'

‘Dead, are they?'

‘Yes, missus.'

‘Stand inside the door there and wait for me.' She pushed him and he stumbled into a cool, dark hallway. Children who had entered before him were nowhere to be seen. It was as though they had melted into the walls. There was not a sound, no sniffling and no calling out, nothing. He watched as others walked by him and were led either up the stairs, or to the back of the house.

It was huge inside; the stairway seemed to climb upward for miles and the sound of bare feet on wooden steps faded quickly. The back of the house unfurled into vast cavernous corridors; that would explain the children vanishing.

He wondered why the woman had asked him to wait. Did she realise that he was older than he'd said? He decided just to say he had lied when asked his age … there was no sense in involving the kind officer.

When the last child was sent off into the gloom, the woman came inside and slammed the door. Taking a large key that hung from her waist on a chain, she locked the door and allowed the key to drop and be hidden in the folds of her skirt. She tried the door once, to make sure it was securely locked and, seeming pleased that it was, turned to Timmy. ‘So you're alone in the world, boy.'

‘Yes, missus.'

She studied him. ‘There's many more like you in here, and I'm worn out from them all. Some are so small they don't even know their own names. I'll put you to work helping with their care. Are you good with children?'

‘Yes, missus, very good; I have two brothers and a sister and …' his voice trailed off.

She did not question his reply. A sudden pounding on the door made her groan with annoyance, before pushing back a latch and peering out. Sighing, she unlocked the door and stepped back, as a small child was propelled inside.

‘Found this one hiding in the yard,' a gruff male voice came from outside.

Without replying she shut and locked the door again before turning to the offending child. It was a little girl, about five years old, and very thin. She wore a dress that was almost transparent and her bare feet were red and scratched. She peeped at Timmy, before looking down again.

‘Well, so what's your name?' demanded the woman.

The child mumbled something and, noticing the woman was losing patience, Timmy bent down to hear.

‘What did you say your name was?'

‘Katie,' she whispered.

‘I'm Timmy.'

‘Enough of the introductions,' barked the woman, ‘come with me.'

Timmy took the child by the hand and they followed her. It would have been easy to lose sight of the woman in the darkened corridors. She led them to a room very much like the infirmary, but this one was full of children. All seemed to be aged between two and ten and there were as many as six to a bed.

‘This is where you will live,' she said to Timmy. ‘You're a bit old for this section, so consider yourself mother and father to this lot from now on.'

He looked around the room at the faces, hoping to see someone he recognised.

‘I'll find you a bed and come morning I'll explain the rules to you. It is your responsibility to make sure they are obeyed at all times, understand?'

He nodded, but he had no idea how to deal with so many children. After she left, Timmy was at a loss what to say or do, until he felt the gentle tugging on his hand. He had forgotten about the child, Katie. He bent down and was startled by her question.

‘Are you my new da?'

He had to think for a moment before answering. ‘I suppose I am in a way.'

‘Are you my da as well?' He looked down at the little boy asking the question and gulped. One by one, the children were getting up from the beds and walking towards him.

The woman returned to find Timmy sitting on the floor surrounded by the children. A grunting, puffing man who carried the wooden base of what was to be Timmy's bed, followed her. He dumped it with a loud clatter. The noise startled the children and some of the youngest ones whimpered. Timmy shushed them as best he could, and waved away the dust that had risen. She went out again and returned with two blankets and straw-filled sacks to serve as his mattress.

‘This is a list of rules,' she thrust a sheet of paper towards him. ‘Though God knows you're probably like most of your kind and not able to read. Still, I'll leave it here and I'll go through it with you in the morning.' She jammed the notice onto a nail by the door and called, ‘Mind you keep those children quiet now!'

He was once again alone with his charges. Taking the sack, he flattened them down as best he could. The blankets were better than he'd been used to at home, although the wool was rough against his skin. Katie lay on the newly-made bed and sucked her thumb. The upset of the day had been too much for such a little child, and Timmy had no sooner covered her than she fell fast asleep. The light was fading as he moved around the room, tucking in and cuddling a child here and there. He was about read the notice where a movement from one of the beds caught his eye. A small boy was waving him over. ‘What is it?' Timmy whispered, not wanting to wake his sleeping charges.

‘You'll be here when I wake up, won't you?'

‘Yes, I'll be here. I promise I won't leave you.'

‘I was a bit afraid until you came.'

‘Don't worry,' he motioned to the child to lie down, ‘it'll be all right now. What's your name?'

‘Peter.'

Timmy smiled; it was the same name as his brother.

‘You go to sleep now, Peter, and we'll talk again in the morning.'

A full moon lit the room. A harvest moon his father would have called it. Sometimes it was so big that it seemed to sit on top of the hill near his home. Taking the note from off the nail, he went to the window to read it. He smiled at his own jokes on each item.

No alcohol
(good!)

No bad language
(damn and blast!)

No laziness, disobedience or malingering
(he had no idea what that was)

Meals to be eaten in silence

Work was breaking stones for men, knitting for women and industrial training for children. Timmy looked around the darkened room and smiled. Most of the children here could hardly walk, let alone work.

Lying down beside Katie, he filled his head with plans for the next day. He closed his eyes and prayed for sleep. Somewhere deep within the house a door banged, voices floated in from outside and an owl hooted its greeting to the night.

****

‘Everyone up! Up! Up!'

He sat up, amazed that it was already morning. The woman was walking through the rows of beds pulling blankets from the sleeping children.