Retribution

by Beverley Elphick

  Her straightforward reasoning cheered me a little and we did as she suggested, removing everything from the chest and putting it in piles. There were charts and medical diagrams and tucked away in the bottom of the chest a list of all the medicants and, wonder of wonders, what they were used for, with likely quantities. Jones told me later that cargo ships didn’t always carry a surgeon, so an officer had to be roped in to do basic doctoring if needed. Serious cases involved sailors taking their chances until they put into port, which sounded unfortunate for them.

  Sarah and I sorted everything into likely need and I undertook to sterilise, with alcohol, any instruments that might be useful.

  I pinned up some medical diagrams to inspire confidence, mine as much as anyone else’s, and by the time we had finished there was an air of professionalism in the cabin. I resolved to read Surgeon Brooks’s journal, except the Latin bits, and hoped I would be able to understand some of the simple cases. If I could decipher his writing and treatments, then I would be halfway towards making a sensible diagnosis of my own.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Prohibited from selling the convicts’ services, the contractors derived no financial benefit from landing them in a physically sound and healthy state. Indeed, dead convicts were more profitable than the living, since every prisoner who died on the passage represented a saving in the expenditure on provisions

  The Convict Ships by Charles Bateson

  The men of the ship’s company began seeking me out straightaway with problems ranging from sores, blisters on the eyes, boils, and a stab wound after a fight between some of the guards. After a couple of days some of the women were allowed to come to my cabin and I was more than capable of dealing with their problems, including the sickness and runs. Luckily the sickness had abated slightly with better weather and perhaps we women were all getting used to the peculiar motion of the seas. Everyone I saw would have benefited from my herbal preparations, but it was not to be - I had to make do with what I had. The quarters of the female convicts were damp and unhealthy, as I knew only too well, and I was sure they bred sores and fungal conditions. Fortunately, I now knew that there were medicines available for most common ailments, but fresh air and simple cleanliness would improve everyone’s lot and I resolved to try and bring this about.

  I thought some of the seamen and guards were more interested in avoiding work than in getting better and several of them hadn’t got anything wrong with them at all; they just wanted to see me! More seriously, I treated two cases of fever among the women convicts and I asked Jones if there was anywhere I could put people in quarantine. He thought I was joking! Most of my work involved simple dressings, healing ointments and offering basic advice. I breathed a sigh of relief after my first day, though I’d been greatly alarmed by the stab wound. Fortunately, it wasn’t as bad as it looked, more of a deep scratch than a serious opening, and I was able to sew it up neatly. I confided in Sarah, who visited me regularly, that I was still very nervous every time a new patient appeared at my door. I worried that they might have a dread disease that could wipe out most of the crew and passengers. Sarah was always such a tonic though, so buoyant and happy with her man and new status; and she still treasured my gift to her, a tiny bar of soap with a coin buried inside it. Whenever I felt overwhelmed with sadness at my loss or terrified by the responsibility thrust upon me, I sought a visit from her, with Jones acting as our go-between. I was so glad of his presence, particularly to protect me from the uncouth guards who sought me out in the guise of ill-health.

  The officer called Prickship started to take quite an interest in my work and when I suggested that the prisoners’ quarters be cleaned more often to prevent disease, he was open to the idea, once I pointed out the considerable benefits. To my mind, if the convicts were held more on the upper deck, the floors could be cleaned more thoroughly, and they would dry before everyone was sent back below again.

  The captain had agreed that access to the upper deck could be more frequent and long enough to allow the ’tween deck to dry after it had been scraped and swilled down. The convicts did the work themselves; they had made a rota. Even the male convicts were allowed up for longer, but the guard was then a lot more vigilant and the men and women were never mixed. I felt really pleased to have been able to manage all this by letting Prickship think that it was his idea that cleaner quarters, as well as better air, would keep everyone in a much healthier state. Sometimes the weather was much too rough for the convicts to come up from below, but then the hatches are left open for fresh air to ventilate their quarters. Even when the wind was blowing and the sea rising with turbulent waves, I found I was enjoying the exhilaration of it – I thought I might make a sailor yet!

  Every night when Prickship heard my report of who was sick, who was better, and who was malingering, I found his gaze fixed on me, and Jones commented that he visits me even when he is off duty.

  ‘Got a soft spot for you, he has, Miss. He was never interested in the prisoners’ welfare before you took it up. You wanna watch out,’ This was said with a lot of winking and grimacing.

  I laughed. ‘Has he got a woman on board?’

  ‘Why, you interested?’

  ‘No, of course not, I still have my husband in my heart.’

  ‘Well, I don’ expect he wants to be in your ’eart, Miss, ’e’ll be more interested in bein’ in other places.’

  ‘Mr. Jones!’ I protested. ‘Don’t dare say such things to me, even in jest.’

  He roared with laughter as I locked him out of my little room.

  Every day I had been feeling a bit more comfortable in my role and Jones took the opportunity to slide off on his own business and when he returned I become his confidante. He seemed to know some scurrilous detail about everyone on board and, by the end of the day, so did I. I enjoyed his company and his tales were so very wicked, I couldn’t help but laugh. I had never known how enjoyable gossiping could be!

  One day - an important day, though I didn’t realise it at the time - I heard a great deal of whistling and jumping to attention before there came a sharp rap on my door. I was stitching up a deep cut on the arm of one of the surliest guards, the cause of which was unclear and unlikely to be divulged to me. My friend Jones was attending, and he leapt to salute as the door was flung open and the captain swept in. I had never seen Jones move so fast and I stared, with my needle poised mid-air, at this smartly dressed and very attractive man who filled the whole room with his authority.

  ‘At ease,’ he said. ‘Carry on, Miss.’

  I continued to stitch, though I wobbled a bit under his scrutiny. Once I’d finished I gave the guard some advice as to why he should try and keep the wound dry and clean, but he wasn’t listening - he couldn’t get out of the room quick enough.

  I wiped my work surface clean and put the needle into a solution of alcohol and some liquid recommended in Surgeon Brooks’s diary.

  ‘You are comfortable, Miss?’ asked the captain. ‘Not too put upon by all the malingerers?’

  ‘No, Sir, but there are a lot of them.’

  ‘The convicts, they are better purposed now we have implemented your suggestions?’

  ‘Two have a worrying fever, but it doesn’t seem to be progressing to anything more serious. I am keeping a close watch on them, though.’

  ‘I understand you want to know if there is isolation space available?’

  ‘As a precaution, yes. It might be necessary if any of the conditions that Surgeon Brooks came across should appear, which is why I am concerned about the two women.’

  ‘We will make space available, if necessary, but I don’t want the men spread thin in guarding half a dozen different areas.’

  ‘There are only two who give concern and they can be kept together as they have the same symptoms.’

  ‘Argh, well, we will wait and see how they do.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir.’
I looked enquiringly at the captain, wondering what he was thinking. He seemed hesitant about leaving even though we had come to the end of our conversation. There was a long and uncomfortable pause before he changed the subject completely.

  ‘Mason tells me you are trained to help women give birth?’

  I couldn’t think who Mason was, having got used to thinking of him as ‘Prickship’, but recollecting, I replied, ‘I have attended many women in Lewes where I am of the household of Mr. and Mrs. Elwood. She is the daughter of an earl and is my patron. I was in attendance for both her live births.’ As the captain was nodding encouragingly at me, I took the opportunity to elaborate on my circumstances. I went on, ‘The Elwoods are frequently part of the Prince of Wales’s circle. Because of their influence I was taught midwifery by Dr. Grieve, the coroner for Lewes. Unfortunately, the doctor went on an extended tour, so my pupillage wasn’t completed. After he left, the local women came to me for help, particularly as most of them couldn’t afford to pay any of the other physicians in the town. I learned quickly, by deed and result.’

  ‘The Prince of Wales, you say?’

  He was clearly impressed, so I continued in the same vein.

  ‘Yes, Captain. Lewes is very near the village of Brighthelmstone where the Prince bought land near the sea - he plans to build a fantastical palace there. He attends the races at Lewes and the Elwoods dine with him on occasion.’ This was an exaggeration, but I had to make myself seem important to people of standing if I was ever to get off this ship.

  ‘Argh,’ he said and turned on his heel and stalked off.

  I collapsed onto the chair, gasping at my own cheek.

  ‘Well, that told him,’ said Jones, laughing.

  ‘Yes, Jones, that told him. Do you think he believed me?’

  ‘He’d have balled you out if ’e didn’t. He probably wanted to check you out before letting you near ’is wife.’

  I gasped. ‘His wife is on board?’

  ‘Aye, an’ expecting a nipper she be, and woe betide anyone who gets on the cross side of her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s a bit of a tartar and keeps him on his toes.’

  ‘No! He looks so full of authority, he quite made me tremble.’

  ‘Not where ’is missus is concerned, Miss, she is holding all the cards and don’t suffer other women around her husband.’

  ‘Does she always sail with him, then?’

  ‘Where he goes,’ he smirked, ‘she goes.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A history of the convict ships, of the officials and merchants who despatched them, of the men of the navy, the army and the mercantile marine who manned them, and of the hapless convicts who peopled their dank and gloomy prisons below decks. It is a history which has many dark and sombre hues – a story of hardship and human suffering, of disease and callous brutality, of mutiny and shipwreck, of cowardice and courage.

  The Convict Ships by Charles Bateson:

  (Preface to first edition)

  When Jones was not keeping me amused with his salty tales and ripe language, I sank into a depth of despair and worry about Beth’s fate. I was certain that Cecilia would have tracked her down and taken her back into her care but always there was the worry that Farmer Coad might go to law and claim his daughter. Though he did not cover himself in glory at my trial, he was still her father and had greater rights than I did. If he claimed her back, she would become a servant to the family and not require paying, which would be an incentive for the Coads.

  I resolved to speak to Prickship and ask him if there was any hope of getting a letter back to Britain. There were other ships on this great sea and sometimes they came within hailing distance, with news exchanged and occasionally a visitor rowing over to speak to the captain privately. It looked hazardous, but I saw it happen on at least one occasion.

  I approached him as soon as I could.

  ‘If I write a letter,’ I asked, ‘is it possible that it could be handed to another ship, one returning to Britain?’

  ‘Well, it’s possible,’ he replied, ‘but you would be more sensible waiting until we dock in Gibraltar. Then you will be certain that the letter will go with some chance of it being received.’

  ‘But how long will that be?’

  ‘Not too long, the weather looks set fair and we are making good sail.’

  ‘But you can’t say?’

  ‘Winds are unpredictable - we are not yet through the Bay of Biscay, and there is the added risk that we run into enemy vessels. We have been fortunate so far but as we get nearer Gibraltar we remain on high alert. Write your letter and we will find someone reliable when we dock and speak to the authorities,’ he went on. ‘Gibraltar is a British fort and although small it has enormous strategic importance for London. Some of our cargo is urgently needed by the military so the Commander there might be amenable, and he is well known to the captain. There will be a lot of official post to-ing and fro-ing and if you can get your letter included that will be the quickest route.’

  I went back to my cabin and sat with my head in my hands. An opportunity: I would write, all night if need be. Maybe, in as little time as a few weeks they would get my letter; they would know I was safe and they would know where Beth was being held, if they didn’t already have her. Perhaps they could help to get me home by explaining matters to the people who count and help have my convict status dropped, or, perhaps I could persuade the captain to declare me dead and slip back that way. That would however force me to remain until we got to Australia and remain on board for the return trip. I didn’t think it likely that the captain or Prickship would agree.

  I didn’t take all night, it turned out. I made several attempts to put it all down but became overwhelmed. The fear, the panic and the hurt all came back again when it came to retelling it all, as well as conveying my worries that my skills in my current situation were so limited but that my freedom might depend on them. In the end, I just stated the bald facts and begged my friends to help me and Beth. I was sure Prickship would help me get my letter into the right hands.

  Having got this all off my chest, I settled down to wait the time out. I realised that I had become quite familiar with the ship and its complicated sails and the great hubbub of noise made by the sailors as they sought the wind; I truly enjoyed the excitement. We have had good sailing weather, according to Jones, and were making headway. The women convicts were cleaner and better fed than when we joined the ship and, as many of them had been sent to me for treatment, particularly the sickness and belly-ache, I had got to know their stories as well as their hopes and dreams. Lucy had been allowed up to my little cabin as she was experiencing some belly-pain, and once I had gotten to the bottom of that, we were able to exchange some gossip.

  My aunt was still causing trouble but was so closely confined, she wasn’t enjoying the power she had hoped for. The red-head was completely in charge of the women and Lucy said that was unlikely to change. Clearly Aunt Tilly had met her match. The older woman, Alice, had continued with her breathing exercise and was much calmer in general; I was touched to hear that she asked Lucy to tell me that I had made such a difference to her.

  My understanding of transportation changed when I realised that although it was a punishment for their crimes, almost all the women wanted to go just to get away from their past and start afresh. There were some women, like my aunt and the red-head, who would always find trouble because it was their nature, but others were just ordinary women who had got caught on a slippery slope of need, hunger and lack of work to earn enough to feed themselves and their families. I felt such pity for some of them and knew that there but for the grace of God and my friends, would I be too. When they got to their destination, they would all have jobs found for them in what would truly be a land of opportunity once their prison term expired. I wanted to help them in any way I could. I made no
tes in a diary of my own that might be seen by the Governor of the place they were going to and tried to give positive reference about those that I treated and how I found them.

  Jones told me in no uncertain words that I was wrong in the head and if I had seen as many convict women as he, I would change my opinion. He seemed to think they were all of the same stamp and deserved every punishment man can devise. He talked of ships where the women migrate nightly to the sailor’s quarters by getting through the bulkheads and, if caught, mete out the vilest abuse it is possible to know, more than even he knows! Some ships, he said, have ended up putting irons on the entire convict population, they were so badly behaved. I knew there were only a small number of convicts on board the Lady Charlotte, compared to other ships, but I didn’t see any sign of such wanton behaviour; he informed me sourly that I didn’t know where to look. The men, however, he said, were much more straightforward and apart from looking for an opportunity to escape, they were a lot less awkward and troublesome. It was his firm belief that the officers on board most transport ships do not want to carry women because they were just too much trouble and set all the men - sailors, guards, and convicts - at each other, sometimes with frightening results.

  My interest in Surgeon Brooks’s diary grew daily as I better understood his spidery writing and, as there was less Latin than English, I have been able to interpret some of the complaints he dealt with. I studied the treatments he prescribed and related the area of problem to the anatomical drawings and gradually extended my knowledge, particularly in understanding the medicants that we found in the chest, though I still wished I had my bag of herbs as many of them would have sufficed for the common complaints and I would have felt more confident.