Remember Me (8 page)

‘Is it terrible?’ she whispered. ‘I’ve never done it.’

Sarah sighed. ‘I thought lying with my husband was wonderful,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘It hurt a bit the first time, but he was so gentle and I loved him. It won’t
be like that for you, I fear, the men here that want a woman won’t care about your feelings. You are nothing but a warm body to use any way they like.’

‘Is there any way I can make it better?’ Mary asked nervously.

‘Don’t struggle, try to pretend you like it.’ Sarah sighed. ‘But don’t think he’ll love you, we’re only convicts after all.’

Chapter three

Around noon Watkin Tench came back to the hulk in a small boat. Mary’s heart leaped as she heard his voice calling out from below. But she continued bailing out the wash tub over the side, waiting for him to appear.

As he clambered on to the deck, she smiled. He was wearing a white shirt and breeches and his face was shiny with perspiration. He looked hot and tired, but to Mary that only made him more desirable.

He nodded when he saw the two women. ‘Good day, Sarah, Mary. I hope you are behaving yourselves today?’

It was clear by his light tone and the hint of amusement in his voice that he’d heard about the bathing in the wash tubs. Mary wondered what he’d have to say if he knew they’d repeated it today. But their clothes were nearly dry now, and they were spinning out the remaining washing to delay the moment when they had to go back to the hold.

‘We’d behave still better with something to eat,’ Mary called out cheekily. ‘Any chance?’

She saw Sarah turn away and guessed her friend thought she was being too forward.

‘Isn’t it enough you’ve got out of the hold for a few
hours?’ Tench asked, taking a few steps closer to them. There was no real irritation in his voice, and Mary decided she had to charm him now or lose the chance for good.

‘Oh yes, sir, we really appreciate the chance to come up here, to look at the woods and fields, hear the birds singing, and feel the sun on our faces,’ she said, trying not to laugh because she was aware she sounded insincere. ‘I wouldn’t complain about anything ever again if we had work like this every day.’

He smiled then, his teeth very white against his tanned face. ‘Tell me about yourself, Mary,’ he asked, then added, ‘And you too, Sarah.’

It seemed to Mary that Fate was smiling on her for once, for Tench sat down on a crate and looked relaxed as he talked to them both. No guards came near and there were no distractions of any kind; they could have been two ordinary girls chatting to a friend after work.

Mary let Sarah talk first. She spoke of her husband’s death and the children she was afraid she’d never see again. She went on to explain that her parents were past the age when they should be bringing up children, and if they should die, the children would go to the workhouse.

Tench really listened. Mary saw him clench his lips as if he was incensed that Sarah’s family circumstances hadn’t been taken into consideration when she was sentenced.

Mary’s own story was very short. She told him about her family in Fowey and how she’d left for Plymouth to get work.

‘I wish to God I’d stayed at home now,’ she said
ruefully, as Sarah tactfully moved away to check the drying washing. ‘It pains me to think that I’ll never set foot in Cornwall, or see my family ever again in this life.’

She half expected Tench to insist she would, that seven years weren’t so long, but she knew by his grave expression he could hold out no hope for her.

‘It is more difficult for women convicts to return,’ he said. ‘Men can sign on a ship coming home when their time is up.’

He didn’t have to add that there was no such opportunity for women, and therefore they were forced to stay. Mary heard it in his voice.

‘I’ll get back,’ she said with determination. ‘Somehow. But do you know where we are to be sent?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘There’s talk of Botany Bay, in New South Wales, the country Captain Cook discovered. But no one else has been there to confirm or deny it’s a viable proposition. America is out of the question now since she gained her independence. They tried Africa and that failed.’

‘If we stay here on the
Dunkirk
we shall all die,’ Mary said dolefully.

Tench sighed. ‘I agree it’s bad, but what can the government do? Every gaol is overcrowded.’

Mary was tempted to comment that if they didn’t send people to prison for petty crimes like stealing a pie, there would be no overcrowding. But she wanted to keep Tench’s interest, not have him scuttling away in haste.

‘Tell me about you yourself, sir,’ she asked instead. ‘I heard you were in the war in the Americas?’

‘I was,’ he grinned ruefully. ‘Taken prisoner of war too. Maybe that’s why I’m a little more sympathetic to prisoners here than the average Marine. I grew up in Penzance too, so I also know how hard life is in Cornwall for most people.’

Mary sat on the deck by the wash tub entranced as Tench told her of his happy childhood memories of Penzance. He had of course come from an entirely different world to her – a big house with servants, a boarding school in Wales, a family with a good name and money. But there was common ground, their love of Cornwall, his interest and affection for ordinary people. He could paint vivid pictures with just a few words of his life with the Marines, of America and of London.

‘I have to go now,’ he said suddenly, perhaps aware he’d stayed talking to her for far too long. ‘You empty that tub and clear away. I’ll bring you up a little something to eat.’

‘He’s not the kind to take a woman,’ Sarah said sharply as soon as Tench had walked away. She had remained silent all the time Mary was talking to him, only nodding and smiling from time to time. ‘You won’t get what you want from him, Mary.’

‘How do you know?’ Mary asked, hurt because she thought the older woman was ridiculing her.

‘I know about men,’ Sarah said simply. ‘He’s the kind who will save himself for the woman he’ll marry. A rare breed.’

Mary thought Sarah was mistaken when Tench came back to give them a lump of bread, some cheese and an
orange. But as he hurriedly walked away, urging them to finish up and go back to the hold, Sarah looked at his slender figure retreating down the deck and sighed.

‘He’s a kind, good man,’ she said. ‘No doubt if you can keep his interest he’ll always help you, Mary. But don’t hope for love, or even sharing his bed. His kind don’t fall for convict women.’

The bread and cheese were both a little mouldy but that didn’t matter, it was solid food after all. It was the orange which thrilled them even more, for such fruit had always been a rare treat even before imprisonment. They ate it all greedily, even the peel, licking every last drop of juice from their chins and laughing at each other.

They had just emptied the last of the washing water over the side when Lieutenant Graham appeared. He was in full uniform and looked very hot and tetchy.

‘Time you were back in the hold,’ he said curtly.

‘We were just going to take down the dry washing and fold it,’ Mary said.

She had caught the sun on her face and arms, she could feel the familiar sting and knew it would be tender for days. But up here she felt free and even happy and she didn’t want to go back down to the hold just yet.

‘My men will do that,’ he said, giving her a piercing look. ‘I know what you women are like, you probably aim to steal a shirt or two.’

‘You are mistaken, sir,’ Mary said indignantly. ‘We just wanted to finish the job properly.’

He leaned back against the sawn-off mast and sneered.
‘Is that so? I think it’s more likely you’d sell your souls for a new dress, food or a drop of rum.’

Mary glanced at Sarah, saw her anxious expression and guessed she had already passed a message that Mary could be tempted into becoming a bed partner. After talking to Tench, Mary had no real interest in Graham any longer, but her common sense told her she mustn’t wipe him right out of the picture.

‘I wouldn’t sell my soul,’ she said pointedly. ‘And I haven’t considered selling my body either, not yet.’

‘You women are all whores,’ Graham said nastily. ‘Now finish up and get back.’

His words stung, but as they lifted the tub to empty it completely, Mary felt Graham’s eyes on her legs. She had tucked the sides of her dress up into the chain around her waist and forgotten she’d left it like that.

She looked round at him and winked cheekily. She had no doubt he could be lured, even if Tench couldn’t.

Over the next few weeks, Mary was called out for work regularly. Sometimes it was just with Sarah, often with other women. But she wasn’t slow to notice she was always picked, whether it was for washing, mending or peeling vegetables. Sadly, she had no way of knowing whether it was Tench or Graham who was putting her on the list.

She saw both men on nearly every occasion, and although Tench didn’t stop to speak again for as long as he had before, he almost always slipped her something to eat. Graham on the other hand lingered longer each
time, often calling Mary away from the other women under a pretence of chastising her for something.

The man puzzled her. He could be so curt and even nasty, but now and again he showed a touch of real kindness, like the occasion when she got a splinter in her foot from the deck planking. Several of the women had attempted to get it out for her without success. By the end of the day she could barely stand on it, and when Graham saw her limping, he called her over.

‘What’s wrong with your foot?’ he asked.

She explained, and he asked her to let him see it. She turned her back on him and with some difficulty because of the chains, lifted her foot up by bending her knee.

‘It’s embedded,’ he said. ‘I’ll get a needle to dig it out.’ He then ordered the other women back to the hold and told Mary to stay where she was.

‘Sit down,’ he said sharply as he came back with a needle and a small bottle of liquid.

Mary did as she was told, and Graham squatted down on a crate before her and lifted her foot on to his knee. It hurt as he prodded the needle in, but he eventually got the splinter, then rubbed a dab of the contents of the bottle on to it, making it sting. Mary squealed with pain.

‘That’s to kill any infection,’ he said. ‘Now, put something round it, and don’t walk around in any muck until it’s healed.’

‘Difficult down in the hold,’ she retorted.

‘Don’t you ever give up on complaining?’ he asked, but he was still holding her foot in his hand.

In that moment Mary knew for certain he did have a
real interest in her. ‘If you think that’s complaining, just let me get into my stride,’ she said with a wide grin. ‘What would you like to hear about? The filth, the stink or the lack of decent food?’ She laughed then, to soften her words. ‘But I don’t want to put you off your supper tonight. It was very kind of you to see to my foot.’

He said nothing, but his hand strayed on to her leg, just above the shackle, smoothing the skin. ‘You keep yourself cleaner than the others,’ he said, his voice suddenly lower and more intimate. ‘I like that about you. I wouldn’t want to see you get a poisonous wound.’

‘Keeping clean is one way to survive this hulk,’ she retorted. ‘That’s my aim, to survive it, whatever I have to do.’

He smiled then, a warmth coming into his plump face, and for a brief second he looked almost handsome. ‘Whatever you have to do?’ he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Mary couldn’t look at him. She sensed he wanted her to spell out to him that she was available. Knowing that he could, if he wished, take her by force made her feel a little tender towards him.

‘I’ve never been with a man,’ she said softly, keeping her eyes down. ‘I always intended to wait till I was wed. But that’s not going to happen now. I could easily die of starvation before I see the country they plan to send me to. So if a man was to offer me food and a new dress, I think I would do what he wanted in return, as long as he was kind.’

‘You don’t mind if it’s not love?’

That seemed a strangely sensitive question to Mary.
Not what she would have expected of a man of his class.

‘Love doesn’t come to women like me,’ she said. ‘I’ll settle for kindness.’

He ordered her back to the hold then, but as she got up he gave her a strip of cotton to bandage her foot. ‘Keep it clean,’ was his only comment, but his eyes said a great deal more.

That night Mary was in a quandary. It was Watkin Tench she wanted: for him she could feel very much more than mere gratitude. But she felt Sarah was right in saying he wouldn’t ever take a woman he wasn’t married to. Yet if she allowed Graham to have his way with her, and Tench found out, he’d be bound to despise her for it.

All the following week she could think of nothing else, agonizing over whether it was nobler to allow herself to starve to death than lose her self-respect, or fight with the only weapons she had for survival.

The long hot spell broke with a fearsome storm. The old hulk bucked and shuddered, the timbers groaned as if it was about to break up. The hatches had to be closed, and remained that way day after day as heavy rain continued to bucket down. As the women lay on their benches in complete darkness, listening to the cries of those who had become sick, the already fetid air was so thick and heavy it was difficult even to breathe.

Baby Rose, who had been sickly from birth, died first, followed a day later by her mother and the woman who shared the same bed. Within twenty-four hours a further eight women were running a fever, and a dozen more,
including Mary, were vomiting and had diarrhoea. Most were so weak they couldn’t even make it to the buckets and just lay in their own mess.

Mary saw for herself then that the only women who weren’t suffering so badly were the so-called whores. They were the ones still healthy enough to be able to wipe another woman’s fevered brow, to offer a few words of comfort. Even Mary, who had considered herself so strong, barely had the strength to crawl to the bucket.

She made up her mind then that survival was far more important than morality.

Eventually the rain abated, and the hatches were opened again, to reveal a foot of bilge water beneath the sleeping shelves, vomit and excrement floating on it. The sickness among the prisoners persisted, claiming yet another two souls. The men called through the grille to the women, but they were suffering just as badly. Mary heard that Able, her cellmate in Exeter, had died, as well as a young boy, barely fifteen years of age, and two of the older men.