Mary's Guardian (9 page)

It was late in January when William arrived back in Rose Hill, his clothes torn and filthy, the skin on his face and arms deeply tanned and wizened from long hours in the sun without protection. He fell into Mary’s arms, weary to the bone and feeling very ashamed.

‘Was it very bad, Will?’ she asked sympathetically as she stroked his back.

‘Not so bad, love. The work’s not much harder than here on the land. Being chained up was difficult to take again, though. I shouldn’t have risked it. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault, Will. Joe found out what happened when he went looking for you. He got some tools for us, paid way too much but at least we’ve been able to keep up the work.’ She kissed him on the forehead. ‘We’ll do it despite these mongrels, we will. Don’t you go being hard on yourself. I know you were only trying to get what we needed.’

‘It wasn’t the price, Mary. It was the way they spoke. They’ve nothing but contempt for us.’ He stopped and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm as his anger about the incident resurfaced. ‘But I should have controlled myself. It was stupid to lose my head. I only pray I’ve not ruined any chance we have of getting a land grant. So help me God, I won’t forgive myself if I’ve ruined that.’

‘Now, now. You sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ Mary said gently.

‘And you? How are you, Mary? Are you…?’

‘No, Will. I’m afraid I’m not having a baby. I’m sorry.’ Her eyes filled and she looked away.

‘If I’m not to apologise for thumping a couple of seamen, then you’re surely not to be saying sorry for not being pregnant.’ They both chuckled softly. ‘We’ll be all right, Mary. I promise.’ William’s voice was full of determination as he took the mug of tea and drank.

By the middle of 1791, Governor Phillip announced that the area known as Rose Hill, which was now a flourishing settlement with good crops of wheat, barley and maize, would from here on be known by its Aboriginal name, Parramatta, meaning ‘head of the river’, or more graphically, ‘the place where eels lie down’.

‘See that.’ William stood at the edge of a field of wheat with his arm around Mary’s shoulder. ‘We’ve been part of that. We ought to be proud.’

‘You’re suggesting I’m not?’ she said with a touch of the old sarcasm.

‘Not at all, my love. I just want you to speak it out. Tell me you think we’re doing well. I feel like shouting it from the roof tops.’ He turned to her and smiled, his eyes daring her to do the same.

‘It’s grand, Will.’ She offered a weak grin. ‘It’s just I’d rather be shoutin’ from the roof tops with Ellen’s news.’

‘I’m glad to hear they’re to have a baby as well, love. And we’ll be happy for them when it arrives.’ He squeezed her shoulder firmly. ‘Our time will come. I know it’s hard to be patient.’ His own heart was heavy with longing for a child but he would say nothing to add to Mary’s despair over it. He offered up a silent prayer that God would soon grant them this deep desire, especially for Mary’s sake. He knew she found it hard not to doubt her womanhood with still no sign of a child to nurture. He knew he’d do everything in his power to protect and provide for his wife but had to accept there were some things he could not bring about. A child had to be God’s gift and while it was hard for him to bear a sense of impotence in any aspect of his life, in this it was deeply troubling.

In October that year a third fleet of convicts arrived. Once again those who made Port Jackson alive were in appalling condition: emaciated, lice-ridden and starving. The new arrivals again stretched the resources of the colony and by December that year there was a large and unruly gathering of convicts in front of the Governor’s house at Parramatta to protest about the new ruling on rations.

‘We can’t live on these measly bits,’ one of the convicts called from the midst of the crowd.

There were a few gasps around him.

‘Should we be here, Will?’ Joe asked tentatively. If this mob keeps yelling out, there’s likely to be some hangings.’

‘I think the Governor’s prepared to hear us out, Joe,’ William answered quietly. ‘I’m just not sure he’ll be able to do anything about it. Too many of the convicts are in the habit of eating all their weekly rations in the first four or five days. His decision to have them issued daily is the only way he can see that they’ll not be stealing someone else’s by the end of the week.’

‘We want our rations all at once,’ another called loudly, his fist thumping the air. ‘You can’t blame all of us for those who are greedy.’

‘Greedy!’ A woman exclaimed, shoving the man sideways and almost knocking him off his feet. ‘That’s a laugh. There’s not enough food to go around a colony of mice. How can you call any of us greedy?’

The Governor appeared on the front stoop of his house and held up his hands wearily. ‘I hear your complaints. I understand your hunger. We’re all struggling. But my decision stands.’ With that he dismissed the crowd and his tone made it clear that those who persisted would be shown no more grace.

‘I hear he’s considering sending some to an island off the coast,’ Mary said warily as they headed back to the fields.

‘Norfolk,’ William nodded. ‘I’ve heard it too. He’s thinking to rid the colony here of some of the more incorrigible types. Apparently there’s a small colony already set up there, where the more hardened criminals are being kept.’

‘And no doubt he’s tired of those who keep trying to escape and those who pick fights with the Aborigines,’ Ellen said, rubbing her swollen belly. ‘Perhaps it’s best some of them are sent away. The trouble makers, I mean. It’s not just about food that there’s strife.’

‘And if some of them were taken away, there’d be more food to go around, eh?’ Mary added.

‘Law and order’s becoming a big problem for the Governor,’ William said soberly. ‘I know people are hungry but not so much now that they don’t have the energy to get into all kinds of trouble.’

‘And the latest news is that the Governor has been sending dispatches to the Home Secretary, pleading a case for free settlers to be sent to the colony to help develop it,’ Joe added. ‘He thinks free men with more skills for working the land are the only hope for successful settlement.’

‘But I thought he was pleased with what we’ve done here at Parramatta?’ Ellen turned to her husband, her eyes wide.

‘He is,’ William asserted. ‘But he still apparently has little confidence that most of the convicts coming out will rise to the hard work needed for the future, even when their sentences expire. There’s too few that have enough drive.’

‘Too few like you, Will,’ Mary said, clasping his arm and leaning into him as they walked.

***

Joe and Ellen’s baby, Joseph, was born in February. Mary sat with her friend all night, and then through the morning, encouraging her through the painful contractions, wiping her face of sweat and tears, holding her hand, and finally laughing through her own tears as the tiny boy was laid on Ellen’s chest. One of the women who’d born three children of her own, helped with the birth, and was now dealing with the cord that flopped onto the new mother’s swollen stomach.

‘He’s beautiful, isn’t he?’ Ellen looked up at Mary through her tears. She cradled the squirming infant tenderly, her heart still heaving with exhaustion but now filled with pride.

‘He is,’ Mary said, willing herself to be truly happy for Ellen, though her own heart was close to breaking. ‘A fine son for Joe. He’ll be tickled pink. Now, you lay back there, girl, while we wash this little one and then we’ll let the men in. I think Joe will have chewed half the ropes off the tent by now.’

When Joe was finally allowed to rush to his wife’s side, she had been sponged, changed and lay under a fresh sheet. Her cheeks were still flushed with exertion but otherwise she appeared to have just woken from a restful sleep. The baby boy beside her was still, his eyes closed, his little mouth twitching.

‘He’s all right, isn’t he?’ Joe whispered, watching to see if the rug in which his son was wrapped showed signs of breathing.

‘He’s just fine,’ Mary assured him. She grinned as she watched Joe’s chest visibly swell with pride. ‘Peaceful as can be,’ Mary continued. ‘She’s done a mighty good job, has your dear wife.’ She turned to smile at Ellen and as her eyes strayed again to the baby she held back tears. There was still no sign of her having a child and she was beginning to wonder if there was some dreadful curse on her attempts to have the family that she and Will longed for.

***

In April a violent storm hit the Parramatta area. The gusting winds were accompanied by a deluge of rain and many of the recently built wattle and daub huts were flooded and some unroofed.

‘Keep your head inside, Mary,’ William said, catching his wife for the third time trying to peer outside. She could barely hear him for the sound of the wind and rain lashing against the canvas of their tent.

‘I can see those huts across the way. The roofs are off some,’ she turned and called to him.

‘There’s nothing we can do about that at the moment, love. Best you help me tend to these ropes in the corners of this place. Some of them are straining badly and I need some more cloth to stop them rubbing on the canvas.’

She dragged her face away from the slight opening in the front flap of the tent, now heavily laced tight. She looked sadly at her oldest skirt and took it to him.

‘No,’ he shook his head, ‘not your skirt. Get that old shirt of mine. I can still wear it even if it gets torn. It’ll still keep the sun off my back in the summer.’

‘If it gets torn I’ll mend it, won’t I?’ she sighed as she handed it to him. ‘And then I’ll use some of my old skirt to hold it together. So what’s the difference?’

‘Don’t argue with me, love. I don’t have time to think of an answer for you and keep this roof over our heads at the same time.’ He gave a little chuckle and she pushed him in the back playfully and then cringed as a gust of wind whistled around the tent. The walls flapped wildly and their cups blew off the small box beside the coal fire and scattered across the ground. ‘We’d best douse that fire in a minute, love. That’d be the last straw, to have a fire in here as well.’

Mary shuddered and turned her attention elsewhere. ‘It’s the gardens I’m worried about, Will. All our work will be washed away in this. All that new seed, my carrots and the maize out in the field. What will become of all that?’

‘It’ll be badly damaged, no doubt, love. But the carrots and turnips and potatoes should be safe enough under the ground. It’s not so low around that patch. We’ll just have to wait for the storm to pass and assess the damage.’

A loud clap of thunder that rumbled on for what seemed like minutes took away any answer Mary might have been forming. She was silent for moments, until at last William wondered if she’d been hurt.

‘You all right?’ he turned from what he was doing and saw her huddled by their cot.

She lifted her head and nodded but her face was white and her knees were drawn up in such a way that William was reminded of the ten-year-old he’d known under the bridges of Lincoln.

He left the corner of the tent and came to her, crouching by her side and pulling her into his arms.

‘It’ll take us off, Will. We’ll be blown to kingdom come.’

He could feel her shaking. ‘Now, now. It’s just a storm. It’ll soon pass. Whatever the damage, we’ll fix it.’ He rubbed her back and felt her relax a little. ‘Let’s be glad we’re here, eh? It’s a little higher than the new huts and I think the tents will do better than those thatched roofs. Now, why don’t you stir up a few of those coals and make us a cup of tea before we put the fire out, eh?’

The following morning they woke to a quieter sky. Through the night they had listened as the thunder gradually moved off into the distance. The rain was still coming down but the wind had eased and the tent no longer shook and creaked.

‘Thank God,’ William said as he stretched. He pushed his legs to the floor and stood up. ‘Did you sleep at all?’ He looked down at Mary whose body was still curled up in the shape of his back where she’d wrapped herself around him and clung fiercely to him all night.

‘A little,’ she said wearily. ‘I think I was praying mostly.’ She yawned and peeked out of the blanket.

‘That can’t have been a bad thing,’ he grinned.

‘No, but I think I need more practice. I could only think of a few words to say. I just wanted to yell, help, over and over, and that hardly sounds like a prayer, does it?’

‘I’m sure the good Lord understood your meaning, love. He sees your heart.’

‘Does He?’ Mary rolled over and looked up at him. ‘Does He really, Will?’ She paused while William nodded. ‘Then why is He not answering my prayers?’

‘The storm is passed, isn’t it?’ he said quietly, knowing that was not what she was talking about. When he noted her downcast face he went on. ‘I know what you’re asking of Him, love. I ask the same. We have to believe He’ll answer in His time.’

Mary lifted herself from the bed and threw her legs over the other side, her back to William. There was no point going on with the conversation. They’d asked the same questions of each other over and over. The answer was not satisfying to Mary but she knew there was no other. Perhaps, as William had once implied, she had to learn patience from her waiting. Perhaps there was still much she had to learn.

‘Maybe it’s just as well we’ve no little ones,’ she sighed as she gathered what little they had for breakfast. ‘If this storm was widespread it’s likely rations will be cut again. And they always make the women’s and children’s rations less. They say we’ll run out of pork altogether if another supply ship doesn’t come in soon.’

‘Then we should pray that none of the pigs were washed away last night,’ he said as he pulled on his trousers.

***

‘Joe and I just cried when we saw the state of the gardens around our tent,’ Ellen said later that day. ‘Nothing but mud. It was everywhere. It looks like it’ll never dry out.’ She shook her head. ‘But I’m sure it will. We’ll have to put in all new seed and I’m not sure how much we have left in the stores. We were hoping we’d be getting seeds from the last crops by now but the last of the wheat was unrecognisable this morning. Just beaten into slush all over the field.’

‘It’s heart breaking, isn’t it?’ Mary commiserated. ‘We’ll have our work cut out for us now to get it all cleared up and replanted before winter.’

Ellen patted her arm. ‘We have to give thanks that no one was injured, love.’ She turned to the basket beside her on the floor and checked on baby Joseph. Seeing that he was tightly wrapped and sleeping peacefully, she went on. ‘From the word around everyone’s safe. Wet and miserable, but safe. Crops and houses can be rebuilt. It’s people that can’t be replaced. Oh, dear, I’m sorry, love. I know you’re feeling badly about not having a baby. It’s hard to fathom, I know. You look so healthy, despite the measly amount of food. And Will’s as strong as an ox. I’m sure it will happen for you soon.’

‘It’s not the food, Ellen. There’s plenty eating same as me and havin’ babies one after another. I don’t know what it is. I’m sure I get a baby started often enough but it hardly gets going at all. Do you really think I’ll have one some day?’