To Love Anew (12 page)

After days of violent weather, the storm finally relented. One clear, warm afternoon Hannah made a trip up with the bucket. Careful not to look at any of the crew, she moved to the railing and breathed deeply of salt air. A breeze caught at her hair and caressed her face. It was a stolen moment of pleasure.

She couldn’t tarry long or someone would notice. When she turned to go back, she saw a man staring at her. He was also a prisoner. Although as filthy as she, there was something about his demeanor and his eyes that moved her. His eyes were the color of honey. They were kind. He smiled, revealing white, unblemished teeth.
He must be someone of distinction
, she thought. Feeling self-conscious, she looked away and descended below decks.

As foolish as it seemed, Hannah’s thoughts stayed with the man. She wondered what he had looked like before becoming a convict. The word
convict
didn’t suit him. He looked nothing like a criminal.

What had he thought of her? She was a sight—her hair in a tangle and her gown barely more than a rag. She wished he’d seen her properly dressed and clean.

You’re a fool
.
There will be no husband for you. If he knew what happened, he’d not offer any kindness.
Her hand rested on her abdomen. She’d missed two menses since that awful night with the judge, and she’d noticed that her breasts were swollen. And recently she’d awakened in the mornings feeling queasy. She was certain she carried Mr. Walker’s child.

I can’t have a baby. This life is cruel to children. And everyone will know my shame.

Other women had given birth since setting sail. One of the children born hadn’t made it through its first night and neither had its mum. Mother and child had been dropped over the side. There would be others born—some would die.

Hannah set down the slop pail. Filled with despair, she leaned against a post.
Lord, I can’t have this child.
She knew what she wanted to pray, but was afraid. What she desired was a monstrous sin.

She closed her eyes, her request too horrible to even consider. She was afraid, yet still surrendered to it.
Father, please take this child. I don’t want it.

10

The hatch door flew open, and light and air spilled into the hold. A voice called from above. “Everyone on deck. Time ye had some exercise.”

Women clambered from their bunks and made their way toward the steps.

“Praise be!” said Lydia. “I was beginning to think the only way to see daylight was to carry up a slop bucket.” She smiled. “I’m in need of a bit of air.” She slid off the top bunk to the floor and moved toward the steps. At the bottom of the ladder, she stopped to wait for Hannah. “Come along. Hurry up. We need to make use of every moment away from this hole.”

Hannah’s feet found the slimy floor. “I’m feeling poorly.” Moving carefully, she made her way toward Lydia.

“Seems yer not well a lot of mornings these days.” She eyed Hannah. “Ye keeping something from me?”

Hannah couldn’t meet Lydia’s gaze. “No. Nothing. I’m just not well this morning. I’m in good health most days.”

Lydia continued to stare. She lifted an eyebrow. “Nothing, is it? All right, then.” With that, she grabbed hold of the railing and started up.

Sunlight and gusting winds greeted Hannah. She squinted against the brightness as she stepped onto the deck. Hands on her hips, she breathed deeply. For a moment she forgot she was a prisoner under the watchful eyes of the crew. She moved to the railing, so flooded with emotions she couldn’t speak. The warmth of sunlight, the clean air, and freedom made her feel almost good. She tipped her face up to catch as much of the sun as she could. “How splendid.”

“Grand it is,” said Lydia, standing at the railing beside Hannah. She leaned way out and peered down at the sea. “Sometimes ye talk high and mighty like someone who’s highborn.”

Hannah smiled at her. “Me highborn? No. But I did serve upper-class women. My mum was one of the best seamstresses in the city.” Hannah gazed out over the waves. “She sent me to school at the church, and she was a stickler for proper diction.”

Lydia leaned her back against the railing and gazed up at full sails and a blue sky. “I didn’t think ye were one of those types. Yer not fussy enough for that.” She smiled and turned to look out over the waves. “Wish we were allowed on deck more.” She eyed ogling sailors. “But I could do without them.”

Hannah followed Lydia’s gaze. “I pray they’ll leave us be.” She glanced at her rounded abdomen and rested her arms over it, hoping to conceal the child growing inside. Soon she’d not be able to hide her condition.

“How grand it would be to bathe,” said Lydia. “Cold salt water thrown at a person isn’t a bath.”

Her eyes narrowed as they moved from one man to another. “They can all go to the devil as far as I care. Every last one of them. They don’t give a whit ’bout us, whether we live or die. We’re ill used and they take pleasure in that.”

Male prisoners emerged from the forward hold. If possible, they looked even filthier than the women and children.

“Must be a work day,” Lydia said. “Figured they’d have a reason for letting us on deck.”

Watching the men, Hannah tried to imagine what they had once looked like. What had they done that brought them to this detestable place? How many were decent blokes who’d simply had a row with a constable or a judge?

She and Lydia were put to work scouring decks aft. While she pushed the scrub brush over the filthy decking, she allowed her mind to wander back to London and the life she’d known. It hadn’t been so long ago, but it felt like forever. The memories were sweet. Had her life truly been ideal? She and her mum had been poor, but even after her father’s death her mother had always been a strong presence. Hannah had never gone hungry, and the cottage stayed warm and safe. Tears blurred her vision and she tried to blink them away. Oh how she longed for those days.

“Look!” a woman shouted. “What is it?”

Prisoners and crew crowded the railings.

“It’s only a dolphin,” one of the sailors said.

Hannah had never seen a dolphin before. She leaned over to have a good look. At first she didn’t see anything, then a fin and a glistening silver body broke the surface of the water. An elegant creature leaped from the sea, then dove eagerly, swimming just below the waves, and then leaped again and again as if unable to contain its joy.

Others chased the first. Hannah had never seen anything like it. She too wanted to leap as she watched them dance and move with speed and unrestrained freedom.

“Can I see, mum?” Lottie asked, pressing in beside Hannah.

“Of course.” Hannah and the young red-head had forged a friendship since their first encounter, but she’d not seen her recently. “I’ve missed you, luv. Where have you been?”

“Taking care of me mum,” Lottie said, her tone clipped. “With her being sick, we thought she might feel better further up front.”

Hannah lifted the youngster, shocked at how little she weighed. She could feel bones protruding beneath her ragged clothes.
Lord, how will she survive?

Lottie peered at the sea. “Oh, how wonderful they are!”

“They are at that.”

“So beautiful!” Lottie leaned farther out.

Hannah tightened her grip. “Careful now. We don’t want you falling overboard.”

“If only I could ride upon them.” Lottie smiled up at Hannah, her brown eyes bright. “It would be lovely, eh?”

“Yes. Lovely.” Hannah imagined the joy of being carried over the seas with the wind and spray splashing her. She leaned out, trying to get a better look at the mystical creatures.

“I’ve never seen such a sight,” said Lottie.

She seemed happy. Yet she was one of the mislaid children who would most likely pay with her life. Stirred by compassion, Hannah hugged Lottie. Why would the government send children to prison with their parents? It was the same as throwing them away. “How old are you, dear?” she asked.

“Eight.”

She looks much younger
.
Perhaps because she’s so small.

Lottie turned to look at the dancing dolphins. “Me mum would have liked to have seen them dolphins.”

“Where is she?”

Lottie’s smile faded. “Dead. She died of the fever.”

Hannah felt the squeeze of sorrow in her heart. “I’m sorry.”

“Died two days ago. I got no one now.”

“You haven’t anyone at all?”

Lottie shook her head slowly back and forth.

“I’ll watch out for you, then. That is, if you don’t mind, eh?”

“Oh no. That would be fine.”

Hannah hugged her again, smoothing the child’s auburn hair. “From now on you’ll sleep beside me. We can keep each other warm.” She smiled.

“Thank ye, mum.” Lottie hugged Hannah about the waist. “I’ll move me things there straight away.”

She turned and moved toward the hatch leading to the hold. Stopping, she looked at Hannah. “I’ll be right back,” she said and then continued. The irons around her ankles slowed her steps and made a grating sound as she walked.

Such injustice
, Hannah thought, angry. She turned and watched the dolphins. If only she could fly across the waves the way they did, free and oblivious about life’s harshness. She leaned against the railing, hoping for a better view. Someone bumped her from behind and Hannah lost her balance. She swung her arms back, reaching for a handhold, and tried to keep from falling. Her momentum was too great and she tumbled over the side. Reaching for anything to hang on to, she only managed to touch the rigging. The cold sea waited. And then her hands found a rope that stretched across the side of the ship. She grabbed hold. Clutching it, she slammed against the side.

There she hung, suspended over the water. “Help! Help me!” She swung her feet toward the ship, searching for a place of leverage. There was nothing. She pressed her body against the side and clung to the rope.

“She’s gone overboard!” cried Lydia. “Hannah! Hold fast,” she yelled down. “Someone help her!”

Hannah looked up. She didn’t think she could hang on much longer. “Hurry!” She flung her manacled feet toward the side of the ship, hoping to find a foothold.

“I’m not puttin’ me own life on the line to save her,” Hannah heard from above.

No one will help me. I’m going to die.

“Don’t let go! I’m coming for you,” someone shouted. A rope dropped down, and moments later a man secured by another line was beside her. He quickly made a loop in the rope he’d tossed down and then put an arm about Hannah’s waist. “I got you now.” He wedged his feet against the side. “Put up one arm, hold on with the other.”

“I . . . I can’t.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

Hannah managed to look at him. It was the man she’d noticed staring at her when she’d been on deck. The one she thought seemed kindly. She’d never spoken to him, but more than once she’d found him watching her. For reasons she didn’t understand, she trusted him. She let go with one hand and allowed herself to rest in his grasp, then she slipped her free arm through the loop, and then the other arm.

“Good girl. Hang on, now. I’ll climb up and pull you aboard.” In spite of his manacles, he managed to use his feet for leverage as he climbed up the side of the ship, hand over hand. When he’d made it back to the deck, he hollered, “You ready?”

“Yes.” Hannah tried to do just as he had and use her feet to help propel her upward as he pulled. The irons restraining her ankles made it nearly impossible. Finally the man and Lydia grabbed hold of Hannah and hauled her over the railing and onto the deck.

Hannah shook with fear and exhaustion. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She looked into the man’s soft hazel eyes, and for a moment she was held captive. Unable to think of what to say, she finally stammered, “Thank you.”

“I’m just grateful you’re out of harm’s way.”

“Your kindness will not be forgotten.” Hannah lifted the loop of rope over her head and handed it to him.

“Enough theatrics,” the captain hollered. “Back to work. All of you.”

Hannah moved away from the man.

“Name’s John Bradshaw. Yours?”

It didn’t seem proper to tell a strange man her name, but he had saved her life. “Hannah Talbot,” she said and then hurried aft.

Lydia followed. “He’s a fine bloke, that one.” When she caught up to Hannah, she asked, “Why ye in such a hurry? Ye running away from him?”

“You heard the captain. Back to work. I’m in no mood for the lash. Are you?”

Lydia smiled. “Ye like him, don’t ye?”

“Not like you mean. But of course I like him. He saved my life.” Dropping to her hands and knees, she lifted a scrub brush out of the bucket of water and returned to scouring the filthy deck. She glanced back to see if he was still where she’d left him. He was gone.

Lydia stood over Hannah, hands planted on her broad hips and a knowing smile on her lips. “Admit it, yer taken with him.”

Hannah didn’t want to talk about John. There was no use in it. He was a prisoner just as she was.

“I don’t even know him. And unless you’ve forgotten, we’re prisoners and can’t be
taken
with anyone. Our lives are not our own.”

“Ye can tell yerself that, but it’s not true. I’ve heard tell of prisoners marrying one another. In New South Wales it’s allowed.” She looked out over the sea. “We have a future. One day we’ll have a new life. I’ll not let a judge decide my fate.”

“He already has.”

“You’re not scrubbing hard enough,” said a grubby-looking sailor with bad teeth. He kicked Hannah hard in the side. The wind went out of her and she clutched her stomach.

The sailor swung around and glared at Lydia. “And what do you think you’re doing? Get to work or you’ll taste the lash. We’ll be porting tomorrow and the captain wants the ship done proper.”

“We’re porting? Where?” Lydia asked, seemingly unconcerned over the sailor’s threat.

“Teneriffe, for the good it’ll do ye.” He walked away with a swagger.

“Did ye hear that? We’ll be porting.”

“There’s no reason to celebrate, Lydia. All it means is we’ll be locked in the hold. That way they won’t have to worry about anyone jumping ship.”