Remember Me (16 page)

Down in the steamy, fetid darkness of the holds they couldn’t share in the excitement. They felt relief that they would soon be walking on solid ground and sleeping in tents, but they were fearful too, for this new prison which they had yet to build was so remote that they knew it was unlikely they would see England and their loved ones there again.

At first light the following morning the sound of axes felling trees filled the air and the women rushed to the hatches to look out.

‘Looks better than that other place,’ Bessie said cheerfully.

‘It does too,’ Mary agreed. The early-morning sun was glinting on the turquoise sea, and on land there were many trees, some quite large ones growing on the hills behind the bay. While there wasn’t what could be called pasture anywhere that she could see, this place certainly didn’t have the same desolate appearance as Botany Bay.

As they watched, they saw boats being lowered from the other ships, and male prisoners on the
Friendship
climbing down to them.

‘I wonder when we’ll go ashore,’ Bessie said longingly.

‘I hope it’s soon,’ Mary sighed. ‘It’s far too hot for Charlotte down here.’

It was over a week later that the women left the ships. They were allowed up on deck during that time as the men put up tents, cut trees and built store-sheds and a saw-mill, but they were told they had to stay on board until there was more order ashore.

Excitement grew with each day. It reminded Mary keenly of the sense of expectation before May Day back home. Women who had other clothes stored got them out and went through them to find something more fetching to wear, but most of them, like Mary, had arrived on the
Charlotte
with only the clothes they stood up in.

A new generosity bloomed, however, and ribbons, pieces of lace and small trinkets were offered to others who had nothing. They helped one another wash and curl their hair, and those who could sew were eager to assist those who couldn’t.

They could hear the women on the
Lady Penryn
engaged in much the same way. Their laughter and ribald comments wafted across to the
Charlotte
, and the rigging was festooned with drying clothes in every colour of the rainbow.

Although Mary felt every bit as excited as the other women, she was nervous too. Just a glance across to the
Lady Penryn
was to know that all those London women were going to be more worldly than her, and undoubtedly more attractive. On board the
Charlotte
she had a sort of distinction, admired for her ability to speak up for the women and her sense of fair play, and for being a mother. Her friendship with Will would almost certainly protect her from any harm amongst his large group of friends. She was also respected by most of the officers and Marines. She’d even gained the trust of their wives and children.

But on shore she would have to start all over again. She would need to be on her guard all the time. She was afraid that Mary Haydon and Catherine Fryer might seek to malign her to anyone who would listen, and enjoy seeing her humiliated. Officers from other ships wouldn’t give her the trust and freedom she’d grown used to. She would be just a very small fish in a big pond, with no one to protect her and Charlotte.

On Sunday, 3 February a church service was held for the men by the Reverend Richard Johnson, under the shade of a big tree. Like all the women, Mary watched from the ship’s deck, a little awed to see around 700 men, prisoners, officers, Marines and sailors gathered together in prayer. Will stood taller and broader than most of the men, his fair hair bleached almost white in the sun. Jamie Cox stood next to him, so small he looked like a child compared to Will.

A mop of red hair in the crowd made Mary look more intently and to her surprise she saw it was Samuel Bird.
Looking again, she saw James Martin beside him, his stooped shoulders and big nose unmistakable.

She was thrilled, for it was almost like seeing family members again, and she had to assume they’d been put on one of the other transport ships, maybe even separated from Will purposely to prevent them from inciting any kind of rebellion together.

Tench stood with the other officers, his hat tucked under his arm, and just the distance between prisoners and officers was a further reminder to Mary that the friendship between herself and Tench was unlikely to continue now the voyage was over.

Three days later the women went ashore. The excitement had been building up gradually over the last week, and as they were rowed to shore, Mary felt as giddy and giggly as her companions. It was wonderful to see everyone so happy, after the hardships on the voyage, with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, just like a bunch of bridesmaids at a wedding party.

For Mary, the prospect of walking on dry land again, to be rid of the smell of slop buckets, and to escape the nightly menace of rats was enough to start her heart pounding. But she was aware that for the other women it was mostly the men waiting on the shore that had them fired up.

As the boat got closer to the shore and Mary could clearly see the men waiting for them, she felt suddenly afraid, and hugged Charlotte closer to her breast. The expression on the men’s faces reminded her of when a ship came into Fowey harbour after weeks at sea. She had observed that same hungry look then, and although she
hadn’t understood at the time why her mother always called her and Dolly indoors, she did now.

Sailors had a kind of rough charm, they were fit and strong, scrubbed up to look their best for shore leave. But these men waiting for the women prisoners were ragged and dirty, more like a vast pack of wild dogs than human beings.

Some of the women began to shout crude things to them, pulling their neck-lines lower and blowing kisses. In another boat coming from the
Lady Penryn
, one woman actually stood up and lifted her dress to show her private parts.

Marines pushed the men back as the boats were grounded on the beach and the women climbed out, but it seemed to Mary that the Marines were almost as bad as the convicts. They were laughing, winking, grabbing at the women’s hands, and there was certainly no sense of them being there to protect the fairer sex.

Mary elbowed her way through the crowd, Charlotte’s small crib under one arm, the other defensively round her child, almost deafened by the cat-calls, crude remarks and appeals for a kiss. It was exhilarating, like all the fairs and festivals she’d ever been to rolled into one, but frightening at the same time. It seemed odd to her that the officers were just standing by watching after all their stringent efforts to keep the men and women apart during the voyage.

Other boats came in, depositing more and more women on the beach, and the hubbub grew louder, the pushing
and shoving more aggressive. But it was as much on the women’s part as the men’s – some of them were even running over to the men to kiss and embrace them.

Mary wanted so much to take off her boots, to run barefoot along the sand, to look at the strange birds watching them from the trees, to revel in her new-found freedom. But she could see this wasn’t an option right now, she had to stay in the safety of a group.

Seeing a small bunch of women with children, standing apart, Mary ran over to them.

‘Lawd have mercy on us,’ she gasped out. ‘It’s getting out of hand!’

A tall woman in a plain dark brown dress and bonnet, holding a small child in her arms, responded. ‘We asked to be taken to a place of safety some time ago,’ she said.

‘But our husbands seem distracted.’

Mary realized then that these women were Marines’ wives and families, and as she’d been treated with some kindness by those who travelled on the
Charlotte
, she assumed this group would be the same.

‘May I stay with you?’ she asked. ‘I’m afraid for my baby.’

The woman’s expression stiffened. ‘Join the other women from your ship,’ she said curtly. ‘That’s where you belong.’

Shamed, Mary turned and walked away, realizing that brief encounter had shown how things were going to be here.

A little more order came later when the Marines fired a warning volley over the prisoners’ heads, and the
women were led to the tents allocated to them. But even as they were marched along, Mary overheard comments and giggles that suggested most of the women were too excited by the eager men to be kept under control for long.

Mary, Bessie and Sarah managed to stay together, but the other three women they were to share the tent with were strangers. The leader of the three, who announced herself as Cheapside Poll, was a tall, skinny woman with hard blue eyes, wearing a striped dress and a battered red hat. She deposited a carpet bag by the tent pole and glowered at Mary and her friends.

‘Any of you so much as think of digging in there and I’ll slit yer nostrils,’ she said. She looked round at her companions and urged them to tell what she was capable of.

‘She done it to a woman in Newgate,’ a fat one with a pock-marked face said gleefully. ‘Never ’eard screams like it afore.’

‘We aren’t thieves,’ Mary said, even though technically she supposed they were. She was frightened now; all three women had harsh voices and a way of speaking which was very different to her own. As she knew Newgate was the infamous prison in London, she supposed that was where they came from.

‘Keep that brat well away from me,’ Poll said viciously, pointing to Charlotte. ‘I can’t be doing with a screamer.’

It was perhaps fortunate that the three Londoners were anxious to get out of the tent as quickly as possible. After laying their blankets down, they disappeared.

Mary sat down to feed Charlotte, but it was clear from the way Sarah and Bessie were fidgeting that they were anxious to get out too. Both her friends looked much better now than they had back in England. Sarah was plumper, with pink cheeks and shining hair, while Bessie, who had been fat when they arrived at the
Dunkirk
, was a couple of stones lighter, and her once grey complexion peachy with health.

‘We’ll just look around,’ Bessie said, primping up her hair. ‘We’ll be back when we’ve found out where we get our rations from.’

Mary had been looking forward to going ashore as much as anyone, but now she felt close to tears. It was so hot, sweat was already soaking her dress, she needed to find water, both for a drink for herself and to cool Charlotte down. All around her she could hear strident, coarse voices, but the language they spoke wasn’t English as she knew it. She guessed it was the Newgate prison cant she’d heard about in Exeter, for odd words had a familiar ring to them. She hadn’t expected that she would have to learn a new language on top of everything else.

On the ship she had known exactly what was expected of her, a daily routine that seldom varied. She was one of only twenty women, an individual with a name and a character. Now she was to be one of some 200 women, thrown in together without any clear-cut rules of behaviour. If Cheapside Poll was an example of what she could expect of the rest of the women, she knew she would need to find new strengths for survival.

Tears dripped down her cheeks as she held Charlotte
to her breast, and the words she’d so often heard in church at Easter-time came to her: ‘Lord, why hast Thou forsaken me?’

Darkness came suddenly, taking Mary by surprise. There appeared to be no twilight period like back in England. The noise which had grown louder and louder throughout the afternoon reached fever pitch.

Mary had plucked up courage to explore the row of women’s tents to seek out her old companions and get food and water. She had spotted James Martin with Samuel Bird, but though they waved and shouted out greetings, Mary didn’t go and talk to them as they were with other more desperate-looking men. She did try to join in the revelry for a while, but the underlying menace in it drove her to join some of the older women who were as nervous as she was.

Again and again the Marines had tried to separate the men from the women, with little success, but as darkness fell all attempts to control the prisoners broke down, and couples were seen scurrying off into the bushes.

Mary was just laying Charlotte down in her crib in the tent, when a flash of lightning lit up the entire bay. Thunder followed it, so loud it was like a cannon, making Charlotte scream out. More thunder and lightning followed, and then came rain, heavier than Mary had ever seen in her life. Within minutes the hard ground was awash, water running through the tent like a river.

Mary expected that the storm would at least dampen the spirits of the revellers as it put out the many fires
burning along the beach. Yet as she crouched in the shelter of the tent looking out, to her horror she saw that the storm was only inflaming people more. Each flash of lightning lit up acts of obscenity, women pulling off their clothes, men rushing to grab them and taking them there in the mud. But if such acts were horrifying, they were at least mutual; elsewhere she saw men rushing like ravaging beasts, pulling down women who were running for their lives, their screams reverberating around the camp. It wasn’t only the convicts either, some of the men were Marines, and as she stood with her hands clamped over her mouth in horror, she saw old women, too frail and bent to run, being knocked to the ground and raped.

It was like a scene from hell she’d once seen a picture of at Sunday school in Fowey, the men demonic in their lust, some women spurring them on with gleeful shouts, others screaming in terror. She saw one woman get up unsteadily from the ground as her rapist left her, so thickly coated with mud she had no features, only to be leapt upon by a second man, while another stood waiting for his turn.

Mary didn’t know what to do. To run from the tent would be folly for she would surely be caught by someone, and if she took Charlotte with her she might be dashed from her arms and killed. Yet the tent offered no protection. Even as she hesitated, another flash of lightning revealed a band of men coming along the rows of tents looking in each for new prey.

Grabbing Charlotte from her crib, she wriggled under
the back of the tent and cowered there for a moment, considering which direction would be the safest. Going inland appeared to be the best choice, with luck there might be bushes to hide under, so hitching Charlotte under one arm and holding up her dress with the other, she ran for her life into the shelter of the trees.