To Love Anew (14 page)

“Fire!” someone shrieked.

Rosalyn bolted for the ladder. “Let us out!” She climbed the steps and beat her fist against the hatch. Others joined her. “Let us out! We’ve a fire down here!”

Keeping Lottie close, Hannah climbed down from the bunk.

Lydia scrambled from hers and, grabbing her blanket, headed toward the fire, nearly tripping on her chains. She beat the flames. “Everyone! Help!”

“How?” a voice challenged. “We’ve nothing.”

“Use yer blankets or the slop buckets.” Lydia’s blanket ignited. She dropped it and stomped out the flames, then picked up a slop bucket. Hannah grabbed another. It was vile, but wet. She dumped the contents on the flames, and a vile stink rose up out of the blaze. Already it had grown too large and the women’s efforts had little effect.

“Grab the others,” Hannah said, hobbling toward another bucket.

Rosalyn gave up her perch on the ladder and joined the fight.

Others stayed at the hatch, beating the wooden door and pleading for rescue.

The last of the chamber pots were emptied, yet the fire grew. The hold filled with smoke and the stench of burning waste. Hannah choked and coughed.

“Mum, what are we to do?” Lottie gasped.

“We’ll get out,” Hannah said, grabbing up the child and moving toward the stairway. Black smoke swirled thick and bitter. Hannah struggled to breathe. Every time she inhaled, smoke and heat seared her lungs.

Still holding on to Lottie, she dropped to her knees. There seemed to be more air closer to the floor. They moved carefully, the decking rising and falling beneath them.

Hannah heard the hatch open and the sounds of women scrambling to safety. Crew members descended, handing down buckets of water. Each bucketful tossed on the flames created more smoke. Hannah wheezed, fighting for every breath. Lottie no longer whimpered or coughed. She hung limply in Hannah’s arms.

Her eyes burning, Hannah tried to see her through black smoke. “Lottie!” She shook the little girl. “Lottie!”

No response.

“Lord, no. Please don’t let her die, not Lottie. Me! Take me!”

All of a sudden strong arms grabbed hold of Hannah. “I’ve got you,” she heard.

It was John. He hefted her and Lottie and carried them both toward the hatch. He was strong and solid. Hannah felt safe.

She tried to take in a breath. There was no oxygen. Her throat constricted. Nothing could save her, not even John.

They broke free of the smoke-filled hold, and wind and rain engulfed Hannah. She sucked in big gulps of air and then coughed in uncontrolled spasms.

John set Hannah and Lottie on the rolling deck. “You all right?”

Hannah managed to nod, barely able to see through the falling rain and spray of the waves. “But . . . she’s not. Can . . . you help her?”

Lottie didn’t move. She wasn’t breathing.

John lifted the little girl and shook her. “Come on, now. Wake up.” He slapped his hand against her back. “Take a breath. You can do it.”

He laid her over one arm and solidly slapped her back. When she didn’t respond, he hit her harder. “Wake up! Breathe!”

All of a sudden, Lottie coughed and then took a wheezing breath. She gagged and choked, but she was breathing.

“The Saints be praised!” John said.

“Thank you, Lord,” Hannah said softly.

John set the little girl on the deck beside Hannah. Lottie coughed violently and retched, but she kept breathing. “She’ll be all right.”

“Because of you,” Hannah said. “Why would you risk your life for us?”

“I’d be pleased to take credit, but the captain sent us down.” He knelt in front of Hannah and took her hands in his. He gazed at her in a way that sent shivers through her. “I would have gone down for you, though. No matter what.”

Hannah didn’t know how to respond. His look was one of devotion. She glanced at the hatch. “What about the fire? Can they put it out?”

Struggling to keep her feet as the ship continued to roll, Lydia staggered toward them. “Are ye all right?”

“Yes. John saved us.”

“The fire’s nearly out.” Lydia took in a deep breath. “They managed to get enough water on it. But everything’s more of a mess than it was before. What little comforts we had are gone.”

Hannah pushed to her feet, but her legs were weak and trembling.

John lifted her, setting her on her feet. “You able to stand on your own?”

“I think so.” She disengaged herself from his arms. “I can manage. Thank you.”

His eyes held hers. “I was exceedingly worried. I should hate myself if something happened to you. I vow to watch over you the rest of the voyage.”

For a moment Hannah reveled in the promise, but it was only a moment. Reality prevailed. How could he see to her welfare? “I appreciate what you’ve done, but how do you propose to watch out for me? We’re all at the mercy of the captain and the crew. And once we reach New South Wales we’ll be under the Governor’s authority.” She straightened slightly. His intentions were honorable but imaginary.

Lottie stumbled to her feet, and Hannah lifted the frail girl into her arms. “I thank you for caring, sir,” she said and walked away wishing life could be different. John was truly a gentleman. If only she’d known him before.

Before doesn’t matter anymore
.
Life is what it is. There’s no room for dreams.

12

John shuffled across the hold. Each step inflicted pain. The irons around his ankles had caused lesions and swelling. They cut into his skin as he moved. Grasping the handrail, he gazed at the hatch, wishing someone would open it from above. He needed to smell the air, to feel a breeze on his face. He’d always taken these simple pleasures for granted.
Never again
, he vowed.

Work offered a reprieve, so he hoped to be ordered to some kind of duty on deck. Even a bone-rattling saltwater dousing was worth time up top.

Thoughts of the life he’d once known reeled through his mind. He could hear his father’s voice, see his steady hand at work. He’d stood by John patiently guiding and training him.
I didn’t realize the beauty of those days.

Memories of his mother pressed in. She’d always smelled of soap and of baking. She’d been a woman who stayed busy caring for her family and home. She took pleasure in needlework and could often be heard humming a hymn while she sewed.

“Mum,” he said without realizing he’d spoken out loud.

“What’d ye say?” asked Perry Littrell, one of John’s prison mates.

“Nothing.”

Perry sat on the bottom step. “I’d give most anything to be on deck. Feels like a fine day, smooth seas.”

“It does at that.”

Perry scratched at his patchy beard. “Can’t get me mind off how I got ’ere.” He smoothed his mustache. “What a fool I was.”

“You never told me what happened.” John had asked before, but Perry avoided the subject. “Can’t be so bad you can’t tell me, eh?”

Perry stared at him, his blue eyes teasing. “Ye want to know what got me ’ere?” He pushed his short, scrawny self upright. “Stupid beggar I was. That’s all there is to it. Me friends were down-and-outs. Knew better.” He shook his head. “They pinched some stuff from a high and mighty, and when they got caught, I was with ’em. Had nothing to do with it. Couldn’t convince the magistrate of my virtue, though.” He grinned.

“Sorry.”

“Not like I didn’t deserve it. Grew up on the streets. Did a lot to be ashamed of. I earned me place ’ere.”

John’s anger grew. He’d not earned this penalty. “Wish I hadn’t gone to the pub that day. I should have let my cousin solve his own troubles.” Hatred burned hot in his gut. “One day he’ll know what it means to suffer. I’ll see to it.”

“Can’t say I blame ye for feeling that way. Figure I’d do the same. But ye’d be better served to let it be.”

“I want my life back.” He smashed a cockroach beneath his boot.

“Revenge won’t give it to ye.”

A man coughed so severely it sounded as if he would hack himself into eternity. John’s eyes fell upon the prisoner. “He’s not long for this world.”

“Heard that sound before. Death is knockin’. ” Perry shoved his hands in his pockets.

There were a fair number of empty berths, left by those who had died. He was almost used to it, except for the lads. Not even old enough to shave, they’d been rounded up off the streets. Having been shut out of society, they did what they had to do to survive. Many paid dearly.

He looked at Perry. “How did you avoid prison all those years?”

“Lucky, I guess. Nearly got caught a few times. Wasn’t all that long ago I decided to become respectable. Seen too many of me mates go to the gallows.” He frowned. “Ended up ’ere anyway.” Scratching his head, he said, “Could do with a bit of tobacco. I’d love to have a pipeful.”

“Heard that in Port Jackson there’s work to be done for the landowners and the upper class. They use convicts. Perhaps we’ll have proper jobs yet.” John offered a sideways grin. “And then maybe you’ll get your tobacco.”

Perry nudged a chunk of filth up from the floor with the toe of his boot. “How much longer ye think we ’ave?”

“Was told it would take six or seven months. We’ve five passed already.”

“How ye know that?”

“Been keeping a count.”

“Figure ye for the kind who would.” Perry walked to the nearest row of bunks and leaned against a corner post. “Seen a lot of rat holes in me day, but this is the worst.”

Most of the men lay on their bunks, staring at nothing or sleeping. Some sat on the floor and played cards. They wagered pieces of straw or bet possessions they dreamed of owning some day. There were no books or any other sort of entertainment. Work was the only real distraction for those strong enough to do it.

Every time John was on deck he looked for Hannah. It was a lucky day when they were both there at once. He’d find some way to have a few words with her even though speaking to a prisoner of the female persuasion could bring the lash down on his back.

Although the ravages of the voyage concealed much of Hannah’s beauty, he could see she was a handsome woman—compelling brown eyes lined with long lashes, and ivory skin. And her strength of mind couldn’t be hidden.

He admired her fortitude.
Even with her courage and strength, she needs someone to watch out for her.
He wanted to be that person. But of course she’d been right when she’d pointed out there was nothing he could do. Although marriages were allowed once in New South Wales, he doubted they’d live near one another. He imagined how she’d look well dressed and clean and then wondered if she ever thought of him.

“What’s that swoony look yer wearing?” Perry asked with a grin. “Yer thinking of her. Ye might as well put that pretty lady out of yer head. When we get to Port Jackson, ye’ll go yer way and she’ll go hers.” He flicked a bug off John’s jacket pocket. “And I thought ye said something ’bout a wife.”

“I
was
married,” John said. “She died. May she rot in her grave.” He looked down at Perry. “She went off with my cousin. The both of them took my money. No doubt he spent every bit of it.”

John clenched his jaws. If he said more, Perry would admonish him. He didn’t need that today. He had a right to hate Henry and Margaret. They’d done the worst thing a person could do to a man.
One day, God willing, I’ll have my revenge.

“I’m tired.” John walked to his bunk. Dropping onto the hard berth, he lay on his back and stared at the bunk above. His mind returned to Hannah. She’d never do what Margaret had. Just the thought of her made him feel somewhat tranquil. He smiled. She was a wisp of a woman, with sad eyes and a quiet way when she wasn’t standing up to him.

She’s good. Too good for this. She ought to be enjoying tea or going to the opera or the ballet.
He didn’t know that Hannah had never enjoyed such indulgences except for an occasional quiet evening with her mum over tea.

His sentence was for the remainder of his life, but he’d heard of some who were given a ticket of leave. Perhaps he’d be one of the lucky few. Course he’d have to serve at least another eight years and probably more.
I’m twenty-six now plus eight years. That’ll make me thirty-four—nearly an old man.
He almost groaned.

He assumed Hannah was younger than him. He heard she’d been sentenced to fourteen years. She was refined and would certainly get a ticket of leave in as little as six years. She’d still be young enough to marry and have children.
She’d be foolish to wait for me.
He rolled onto his side.
You’re acting like an old duffer already. She’s got no reason to wait in any case. I’ll most likely serve out the entire length of my sentence.

He stared at the bulkhead.

Hannah lay beside Lottie. Resting on one elbow, she studied the little girl and smoothed her hot brow. She’d been sick for days, and each hour she seemed to grow weaker. Hannah guessed it to be ship fever, which had already taken a number of lives.
God, she can’t die. Please let her live. I know I’m unworthy to ask you for anything, but she’s a bright little thing with a kind heart.

Lottie’s eyes fluttered open. “Me head hurts, mum. And I’m cold.”

“I know, luv. You’ll be better soon.”

Lottie closed her eyes as if to gather strength and then looked up again at Hannah. “If it’s me time to die, it’s all right. I’ll see me mum, then.”

“You’ll not be dying today. You’re too strong for that.” Hannah held back tears. “You’re needed here. I need you.”

Lottie smiled. “I need ye too. I’d say yer very near to being me own mum.”

Hannah caressed the little girl’s freckled cheek. She was so pale it frightened her. Holding a tin of water to the child’s lips, she said, “Have a drink, eh.” She lifted Lottie up slightly so she could sip from the cup. After taking a drink, Lottie lay back down with a heavy breath.

Clanking irons announced Lydia’s arrival. She stood beside the berth. Leaning on the bunk, she studied Lottie and then looked at Hannah. “Ye need time to yerself. I’ll watch over her.”

Hannah looked down at the youngster. She was already asleep. “I’m afraid I’ll look away and then she’ll be gone.” She closed her eyes and gave herself permission to cry. “It’s not right. None of this is right. Why would God allow so much suffering, especially for someone like her?”