Where The Flag Floats (5 page)

5
^th
February 1863

I woke before the bell sounded and knew it was time to get out of the hammock. I moved slowly, feeling each one of the welts and open wounds on my skin. They were not deep but stung whenever I moved. If I had expected to be let off my duties the previous day because of my punishment, I had been mistaken. Breakfast, dinner and supper had to be prepared, dished up to the men and the pots and utensils cleaned and the swill fed to the pigs. I had remained shirtless all day, letting the salt-laden air harden the scabs on my back but in the evening, John gave me a shirt to wear and I had put it on before I rolled into the hammock, wincing, and, exhausted, fallen into a deep sleep.

I pulled my shirt about me. My wounds had oozed in the night and the shirt stuck to my skin in places, but at least I was not stuck to the hammock. I rolled it up, stored it away and went to the galley to begin my duties.

I was not allowed to take the coffee to the commodore’s cabin. Another cabin boy took it and instead I took the porridge to the men at the mess tables.

“How are you?” Fred asked me as he took a spoonful.

“Pained.”

“You’ll not get any sympathy from me. I warned you.”

“I’ll get the watch back,” I said. “You’ll see.”

I walked away. I sounded more confident than I felt, for I knew getting the watch back was going to be all the more difficult because of my first attempt. I had no doubt the commodore would flog me a second time, or even worse, have me hanged if he caught me in his cabin again.

I struggled with it all day, my thoughts not on my tasks but on all the ways in which I could get into the cabin. I tripped, burnt things, forgot pails, utensils, even the pig swill bucket, and the cook’s blows added to my sting of the wounds on my back, but still I could not concentrate on my work.

Later that evening, I sat in the forecastle with the other men, silent while my mind went round and round, testing and rejecting each half-formed plan. The men ignored me. Fred was not among them. I huddled amongst the stores on the deck, out of the cool breeze while above me the sky was cloudy and neither the moon nor stars could be seen.

A seaman was playing a mouth organ while others tapped their feet. Eventually one jumped up and started dancing while the men clapped in time. I knew this type of dancing, the kind the Irish had brought out with them, with back straight, arms rigid by his sides as the legs moved in a blur. The dancing and clapping became faster until it suddenly finished leaving the dancer panting but smiling.

“Well done, Tom,” said one of the men and the dancer took an exaggerated bow.

“Give us a song, Billy,” another shouted.

“Aye, give us your song about the ship,” the men called out.

A man stood up, cleared his throat and began to sing a sea shanty that he must have made up himself.

We started in Portsmouth’s fitting basin

The ugliest place we ever been based in

With a ship to rig and stores to stow

And wondering where the hell we would go.

The men knew the song, though, as they joined in the chorus:

Orpheus
, a fine ship, a big ship

Orpheus
, a wet ship, a pig ship.

One, two three, up go the sails

While the master down below yells

From Plymouth sound to Canada’s shores

Through seas that shook all the doors

Water on top and more water below

“Keep bailing men” came the bellow

Down to Bermuda and then Simons Bay

Warm winds and sun kept the water away

A shake down in Africa was needed

Before the course for Australia heeded

Round and round the big isle we went

Didn’t know where we’d be sent

Now to New Zealand we are headed

Where I’ll find a lass to be wedded.

The men roared with laughter at the last verse and then sang the chorus twice, and I joined in, having now heard enough to know it a little. At that moment it began to rain, softly at first and then harder and the men took what shelter they could find in the forecastle while I decided it was time to go below. My body ached and my head was sore from the endless round of thinking. I had still to come up with a plan to get my watch back

6
^th
February 1863

The ship had changed direction in the night. I had to adjust the way I walked for she lay on her port side and the handholds were in different places. I almost dropped the pail containing the burgoo as the ship lurched and I shifted my weight the wrong way.

“Need a hand?” Fred said, picking up the spoon from where it had fallen on the deck.

“No,” I said curtly. I was fed up with him, with the crew, and still suffering from my wounds, and the injustice of the punishment.

“Come here,” Fred whispered,

I stepped forward and he pulled me closer so that my head was almost touching his.

“We’ve been talking,” he said. “We think you should have your watch.”

I looked around the table. John sat there, as did Billy and, to my surprise, Pat. They all looked at me and nodded.

“How?” I asked.

“Meet us tonight on the forecastle and we’ll tell you our plan.”

Fred gave me a little push away and I stepped back, almost dropping the pail again. I did not want to leave until I had found out what they had planned.

I opened my mouth to speak but Fred hissed, “Later, the lieutenant is watching.”

I turned and saw Lieutenant Amphlett standing just by the galley door looking down the length of the mess tables. I took the spoon that Fred handed out to me and continued on to the next table.

The day dragged. I tried to catch Fred at the midday meal but he waved me away without saying anything. Several times I caught Lieutenant Amphlett watching me. Did he suspect something? There was no way he could know what had been said that morning, unless someone had told him.

Eagerly I climbed the ladder to the deck that evening after all my chores had been done. I could see the men gathered in the forecastle, talking, laughing and smoking. I spotted Fred, but because I was not sure where Lieutenant Amphlett was, I settled into a spot with my back against a gun a little way from him.

“I hear we’re heading for the Manookoo Bar,” said Pat.

“Manukau,” Fred corrected him. “And I hope the master is not intending to take us over it.”

“Why? What do you know?”

“I was quartermaster on the
Harrier
and I’ve taken her over the Manukau Bar. It’s a dirty piece of water. The bar is always shifting and we’ll need the latest charts.”

“The Admiralty won’t give us old charts,” Pat said with confidence. “And there’s a signal station anyway.”

“Yes, but it’s in a state of disrepair,” said Fred. “And last I heard, the signalman had left.”

“You’re full of tales for someone who’s been on the run for almost a year.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t get to hear things,” Fred said.

Pat took a pull on his pipe and then used the stem to point in my direction. “The boy’s here.”

Fred nodded to the men and they sidled towards me. The other men averted their eyes and maybe their ears as well, for if they did not hear, then they could not be witness to whatever plan Fred was hatching. Fred, John and Pat all sat down on the deck around me as if they had come for a friendly chat.

“We think you should have a chance at getting your watch back, but first let’s get one thing straight: if you get caught, you’ll deny we had anything to do with it. Agreed?”

I stared into Fred’s eyes. He knew, as I did, if I was caught in another attempt, my punishment could be worse than before and yet I did not hesitate.

“Yes, agreed,” I said.

“Good. Now, can you pick a lock?”

“If I have a picklock.”

Fred put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a picklock. “One of the boys had this and we confiscated it. Put it away quick before anyone sees it.”

I pushed it into my trouser pocket.

“Tomorrow we should see the coast and more than likely try for the Manukau Bar. All the officers will be on the bridge, including the commodore, and his eyes will be on the water, not on the ship. While we keep the sentry busy, you can pick the lock on his door, get into his cabin and get the watch back.”

“How will …” I started to ask.

“Sssh. The less you know, the less you’ll be able to reveal. Just be aware that when I tell you, you must get below and start for the commodore’s cabin. Leave the rest to us.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?” It concerned me that Fred and his friends were endangering themselves – for me.

“Only if I get caught,” Fred said with a chuckle. “And besides, they can only hang me once, you know.”

The men around me did not smile at this and neither did I. The ship’s bell rang out to indicate that the next watch was about to start and the men drifted away to their posts. As the first watch settled into their duties, I stood up and walked towards the middle of the ship, so distracted by what the men had said that I almost walked into Lieutenant Amphlett who put a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“I saw you talking with the men,” he said. “Is that man Butler inciting the men to mutiny?”

I had to think quickly. “No, sir, they’re just concerned for my welfare after my punishment.”

“A punishment well deserved. I hope you’ve learnt your lesson.”

If only he knew what we were planning. “Yes, sir, of course, sir.”

“Then on your way,” he said, and he stalked off.

I gave a sigh of relief and went down below.

7 February 1863

8am

“Land ho!” The cry carried through the ship. I wanted to go on deck but there were dishes to clean, pots to scour and water to be boiled. I had to stay in the galley until all my chores had been completed, but I could not help but feel a small knot of excitement in my stomach. I checked for the hundredth time that the picklock was still in my pocket.

As soon as I could, I slipped away so that I could see this new land for myself, but I was to be disappointed. I could see nothing but ocean when I reached the deck – not even when I climbed on top of one of the guns and held onto the shrouds.

“You’ll not see land from there,” John said as he jogged past me and onto the shrouds, hanging on the outside of the ship for a moment before beginning to climb. “You’ll only see it from up here.”

“I’m not going up there,” I said, tightening my grip on the shrouds as the ship swung off course.

“Scaredy cat,” John called as he continued to the apex of the shrouds and then, alarmingly, he scrambled upside down along the underside of the top before reaching the edge and hauling himself on to the wooden platform. I had to tilt my head back to watch him; the top seemed so far away.

“Are you going up?” Fred asked me as he hopped onto the gunwale beside me.

“You won’t catch me up there,” I said.

“Always the landlubber, ey?”

“Maybe,” I said, looking up at the sails.

The truth was, I was beginning to enjoy being at sea. In spite of the hard work and the rough justice, it was the first time I had been out of Sydney, and the first time I’d not had to fight or steal for every scrap of food, or shelter. Maybe I should become a seaman. I looked over at the wheel. I wanted to be the man at the wheel, or the man behind the wheel: the quartermaster. Or even, I thought as my eyes focused on the officer on the bridge, a lieutenant …

I shook my head. It was just a dream.

10am

The men were to be given their dinner early, I found out when I returned to the galley, as all hands were required on deck in preparation for the crossing of the bar. It confirmed what Fred had told me – that most of the officers would be on the deck or on the bridge.

The steam pressure to the engines had been increased and the engines thundered below the decks which vibrated beneath me as I stood at the stove, sweating. The hatch above my head was open but the breeze was not enough to cool me. As soon as dinner was done and cleared away, all the hatches would be closed and that would make the galley stifling. I hoped to be out and on the deck when that happened.

But first the midday meal had to be served half an hour early. I worked quickly, the cook’s hand never far from my ear as I dropped utensils and almost burnt the meat. In the end he sent me out with the pig’s swill. It was probably that or cut my throat, judging from the expression on his face.

I was glad to be on the deck where the breeze cooled my skin. I glanced over to the east and could see the land ahead. There was no gentle beach sloping to a calm sea, but what looked like a solid line of cliffs at which the waves beat, sending up sprays of seawater that misted the air around the land. How could we pass through that? It looked like there was no way across.

The commodore was already on the bridge, together with the commander and the master. Lieutenant Amphlett stood there too, and he turned and looked at me as though he felt my eyes on him. I lowered my eyes and carried on to the throw the pigs their slops.

Fred caught me on the way back.

“You ready, Sam?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. The knot in my stomach tightened as I thought of what I was going to do. I could not contemplate what would happen if I was caught. “Won’t he notice the watch is gone?”

“Maybe, but perhaps after we have entered the harbour and reached the Onehunga Wharf. You must make sure you get away as quick as you can before he has a chance to think about it. This may be the only chance we have to get you into the cabin.”

“Can you keep the sentry away for long enough?”

“We’ll do what we can, Sam, I promise you.”

He turned to go.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked him.

“I got you into this, Sam. I should’ve believed you from the beginning, given you the watch back and sent you on your way. Then neither you nor I would be here. I suppose this is my way of trying to make amends.”

I couldn’t say anything to this so I just nodded, grateful that finally I had a friend amongst the crew.

As I made my way back to the galley I lifted my eyes to the bridge and saw Lieutenant Amphlett watching me still.