Unfortunately, the diary did not help me diagnose what was wrong with Martha and Jane, the two feverish ladies. I managed to get them into isolation and spent as much time with them as I could, but they were sinking; each day they seemed less able to speak or show interest; and other than giving them cold ale (the water had deteriorated), and providing nourishment in the form of wet messes, I was at a complete loss. If only I had my herbs, I would at least have had other things to try. I was quite distraught as I watched them lower before my very eyes, but they knew I was there and trying my best. Martha, who was less sickly, smiled wanly as I sponged her wasted body down. The fever was not violent, but it was getting control in the steady progression of their illness, whatever it was.
A worrying time came after the two men who had accepted bribes from my aunt were sent to me to treat the lash wounds. Both had become infected and I wondered how much muck there was on the implement of this horrible punishment. I asked Jones to make sure that it was washed thoroughly between occasions of punishment, at the very least soaked in sea water. I held no grudge against these men even though they had caused me such trouble. It was all down to my aunt and I wished she could see the horrible sores they bore because of her actions; though one of them had clearly been flogged in the past as well. Neither of them seemed to realise that I was the person that had been substituted; I suppose I had just been a bundle with a sack over my head to them. I didn’t enlighten them but I heard Jones giving them a dressing-down when they left my cabin. I couldn’t make out half of what he said, using an excess of language that was foreign to me, but I did understand that they were to be handed over to the authorities when we got to port for even greater punishment. I also understood that Jones told them who I was and they didn’t deserve what he called my ‘tender care.’
One dreadful morning, I was greatly upset and saddened to find both Martha and Jane dead. They had succumbed during the night. Whatever had claimed them took them together even though I had thought Martha the stronger. I’d done everything I could think of to abate their fever, even requesting and receiving isolation for them, but to no avail, and the worst of it was I had no idea why they had died. I wept with frustration at my own lack of knowledge and sorrowfully attended the moment when their bodies were to be cast from the ship. No-one mourned them, and I was the only person who showed any respect as they were plunged into the deep. I wondered if their families would ever find out what had happened to them. I would ask Prickship and perhaps, if and when I got back home, I might be able to let them know myself of their end. I knew Martha had children and a man who loved her. She had told me that he had promised to wait for her.
As I made my way back to my cabin, Jones tried to cheer me with tales of previous voyages on ships carrying hundreds of convicts when many had died, which was no comfort to me at all. He said that this voyage was one of the best he had been on, with no bad weather and consequent sickness, no mutiny or fights between sailors and guards. In fact, he said it was a bit dreary and he was looking forward to a bit more interest once we got going on the next leg when the weather heated up which, he seemed to think, would liven things up.
‘How can you say this is one of the best voyages you have been on and then say it is dreary?’ I asked.
‘Well, the weather is good for a start,’ he said, ‘and the cook is not all bad - the fella has judged the grub all right with animals kept alive until cook-up time so nothing ’as gone bad. The ship’s biscuit is passable if you dip it in ale first to soften.’
Even as he answered, he jumped to attention as the captain bore down on us.
‘Miss Coad, you will attend my wife this evening,’ he said. ‘Jones, here, will bring you to my cabin and mind you behave respectfully.’
‘Aye sir,’ we both replied together, and I had to stop myself from saluting.
‘Well, well,’ said Jones, and immediately resumed our conversation as the captain strode off.
‘Course, this is a dry ship compared to some as I’ve been on - captain don’t approve of drink. We don’t get anything other than our rum ration, no more, no less, which is maybe why there’s been no trouble. One brig I was on, there was more grog than you could believe and the convicts, the women that is, got hold of it in return for favours. That were a voyage, that were.’ He chuckled at his memories.
We had arrived back at my cabin where Prickship was waiting, impatiently. He had a young boy with him who was doubled up in pain and groaning pitifully.
‘A malingerer for you, Miss Coad. Please deal with him and let me know the outcome.’
He swiped the boy around the head as he walked off. The lad, not more than twelve years of age, grunted and made an obscene gesture at Prickship’s back, before he entered my cabin and I began an exploration of his symptoms. While he was with me, he vomited, and I was able to see the results of a very unsatisfactory meal recently taken. I dosed him with a purge as used by Surgeon Brooks and told him to come back if he wasn’t improved by evening.
Later, Prickship returned to ask about the lad; he also wanted to know where I had been. I was a bit irritated that he kept such a close eye on me. I had a feeling it was nothing to do with the ship’s security but more likely his personal interest in me, so I answered shortly, ‘I went to see the burial of Martha and Jane, the two women who died. I was upset and wanted to pay my respects.’
He snorted. ‘You waste your sentiment on such as they. They probably had the fever before we even started this voyage, so you cannot be held to account.’
‘I know I did nothing wrong, but I didn’t help them get better and I am sorry for it.’
‘If we get to our destination without losing half of the convicts, we will have done well. As only two have died so far, you should be pleased that your care and the changes you suggested have made a difference. Now,’ his tone changed. ‘More importantly, the captain wants you to attend on his wife and I have some advice. Remember to keep your place and don’t try to get friendly – she can be a difficult woman and you need to keep on your mettle for the captain’s sake. If he is happy, then everyone else gets an easy ride. If you upset her, then we will all suffer.’
I was quite astonished to be given this advice and thankful too as I showed him details of the boy’s sickness.
‘Argh, let’s hope this is a single case. I wouldn’t want everyone to go down with the shits. I will inform the captain and speak to cook.’
Later, I discovered that the galley area had been smoked and tarred and that a resident rat’s nest was destroyed as were other nests all over the ship. In fact, there was a great clean-up by the sailors and the ’tween decks were inspected by the captain himself before he gave orders for them to be smoked as well. I wondered if we were nearing port.
Later I had time to reflect on the burial. Both bodies were sewn into a shroud-like garment and a short verse from the Bible was read. I was too far away, and it was windy, so I didn’t hear all that was said over the deceased, but I could see that it was lacking in care. I felt they were just dumped as quickly as possible into the deep waters. Prickship was probably right in supposing that the women had the illness before they were put on board. Everyone was supposed to have been given a clean bill of health before departure, but I was told that many convicts hid their condition or symptoms, reasoning that they were more likely to recover once away from the noisome hulk or prison.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The number of prisoners embarked aboard the convict ships was substantially greater than the number landed at their destination. Disease took by far the heaviest toll. Scurvy, dysentery, typhoid fever, smallpox and other diseases were commonplace, especially in the earliest years of transportation, and effective measures to combat them were introduced but tardily.
The Convict Ships by Charles Bateson
My visit to the captain’s quarters put me in an uncomfortable situation. As Jones and I approached the door,
I could hear a shrill voice, shouting: ‘I don’t want some scabby convict invited into my rooms to examine me. God, what were you thinking, man? These trollops are filthy and contaminated with God knows what. And here you are bringing one to peer into my privates.’
‘Dearest,’ I heard the captain say, his tone conciliatory, ‘Miss Coad is not a convict, she is a perfectly respectable young woman whose patron dines with the Prince of Wales.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ came the reply. ‘She’s just another of your fancy women who has fed you a story. Get away from me, you fool.’
I looked at Jones and we both pulled a face as an object was thrown and smashed.
Jones knocked smartly on the door and it was wrenched open by a red-faced and sorry-looking captain who didn’t look at all like the man I had seen earlier, being quite diminished in stature.
‘Miss Coad, do come in, my wife is expecting you.’
I edged into the cabin expecting some china to hit me at any moment. She just glared at me coldly, so I plunged into an explanation of who I was.
‘Ma’am, I am Esther Coad, a midwife from Lewes, in Sussex.’ I looked at her, lying on a couch in a commodious cabin. ‘May I come in?’
Her eyes raked over me before giving the slightest of nods.
‘Where did you say you were from?’ she demanded.
‘Lewes, a small town, near Brighthelmstone in Sussex, Ma’am. My patron, Cecilia Elwood, is the daughter of an earl and a friend of the Prince of Wales. I have attended both her live births. She is also a close friend of Dr. Grieve, the coroner - I have been working as a pupil midwife in order to assist him in his practice.’ I paused for breath, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Elwood attended the prince’s wedding and on occasion dine with his party. I am telling you this because I do not want you to think I come here on false pretences. I am only on this ship because I was forced, as an act of revenge, by my aunt who is down in the ’tween deck where she is ironed because of her dreadful deeds.’ I gulped at the end of what felt like a speech.
I saw the tension leave her shoulders but there was no other sign of acceptance. I waited.
‘Well, I suppose we might talk for a while about my condition. Leave us’, she barked at the poor man who was captain of the ship.
Very carefully and respectfully I asked a few questions and nodded encouragingly as she began to warm to the theme of herself and her predicament - which I got the impression wasn’t entirely welcome.
We established that the pregnancy was of approximately seven months in duration and she was feeling well but uncomfortable. I didn’t dare suggest that I examine her but hoped she would invite me back when she was more accepting of my role. Once we were on cool but polite speaking terms, I suggested that I call back tomorrow when she was feeling more up to it and that is how we left things. I was very glad to escape and breathed a sigh of relief once outside the door. Jones was waiting and raised his eyebrows questioningly. I just nodded, and we returned to my room where I collapsed into my chair.
Later, I thought about the visit and wondered why on earth a woman would undertake a voyage of this nature when she was already very pregnant. I thought of asking Prickship but decided discretion was the way to proceed and not to discuss anything to do with the lady with anyone other than herself, and that included her husband! I hadn’t examined her, but my instincts told me she was further on in her pregnancy than the seven months she claimed.
That night a mighty wind blew up and we were plunged deep into great troughs of water before rising, it seemed vertically, then falling so fast I thought my stomach was left behind. I kept to my room, on my knees and praying, as I heard the chaos on deck with men running frantically trying to keep the ship safe while confronting the great waves that broke over her, their voices lost in a battle between water and wind. I was terrified and sick until my insides were drained and aching. When I thought that the boat could surely take no more, it got even worse, a deal of crashing and splintering wood as the timbers quarrelled with the sea and a vengeful wind. The roaring and howling were as if we were in Bedlam with everyone running riot together and screaming at the top of their voices.
Several times I heard a great shuddering boom and I felt certain that the masts were broken, and we would all be lost to a watery grave. Eventually, I pulled my blanket round my head, shut my eyes and stuffed my ears, trying not to pay heed to our peril. I must have fallen asleep at my desk because the next thing I heard was Jones banging on the door.
‘Is it over, are we safe?’ I asked as he entered.
‘Just about, Miss. Quite a bit of damage but the carpenters and sailmakers are putting things to rights.’
‘Did the masts come down?’
‘I am going to have to teach you some nautical terms,’ he laughed. ‘But no, they didn’t. We lost some rigging and sail, that’s all. This is a tight ship and it will take a lot to cripple her. There will be a delay in the grub today, though, as the galley is awash and cook be drunk.’
‘I thought you said this was a dry ship?’
‘Well, ’e has access to brandy not given to us working men,’ he grimaced. ‘And he has been at it all night.’
‘Was anyone hurt?’
‘Some bumps and bruises and the ’tween decks are awash with stuff you wouldn’t want mentioned in polite company. The fellas, too, seems their stomachs ain’t up to a good blow.’
‘Will we be able to get everyone up on deck,’ I asked, thinking of the women cooped up below, ‘or is it still too rough? It feels very pitchy to me.’
He chuckled. ‘Pitchy, indeed. Captain will decide. Until then I suggest you prepare yourself for a lot of seasick folk.’
I didn’t visit the captain’s wife that day nor the next. As Jones had predicted, there were a lot of sickly convicts, both male and female, and some of the crew were suffering rope burns, cuts and bruises. The wind abated over the next 24 hours, allowing repairs and cleaning of the ’tween decks which were in a terrible mess. Gradually, everyone returned to their normal selves and were even become quite elated that we had survived the storm relatively unscathed.
On the third day after the storm, I received a visit from Prickship instructing me to call on Mrs. Campbell during the afternoon. We were quite becalmed, and I had no difficulty in making my way to the captain’s cabin. It was a beautiful day and I hoped that the lady would be in a receptive mood.
I began by asking her if she had weathered the storm comfortably.
‘Of course not!’ she snapped. ‘Just because I am used to this way of life doesn’t mean I don’t feel the tumult. However, I have some useful remedies for sickness and this cabin is well placed.’
I started to tell her that the convicts had suffered badly but she wasn’t in the slightest bit interested so I gave up that line of conversation and contented myself with asking after her health. Eventually, after several brittle stops and starts, she dropped her shoulders. It was a mannerism I had noticed in our first encounter and clearly indicated when she was in a more relaxed state of mind and we were able to proceed with a mutually acceptable exchange of knowledge. She was not a young woman, I would hazard an age of 37, which is rather old for a first baby. She had intimated that she was not yet 30 but I didn’t believe her and decided to keep my own counsel on that point. After we had conversed for a good time, I broached the subject of examining her which she was initially reluctant to allow, but when I pointed out that I could offer her little help unless I knew the position of the babe and how strong the heartbeat was, she agreed.
Fortunately for us both, all seemed quite normal, and I could reassure her on that point even though my belief was confirmed that this was more likely to be an eighth month child. However, the head was not yet positioned, so once again I kept my own counsel. Once she had restored her clothing, she became more amenable towards me and I plucked up courage to ask her where she intended to have her baby.’
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‘Well, I don’t know. I was hoping that we would be in the Australias by the time it is due.’
‘Perhaps,’ I suggested tentatively, ‘it would be possible to stay in Gibraltar where I believe we are headed, as I understand it is a British port and there are sure to be physicians of repute.’
She looked aghast. ‘They’ll all be military sawbones and anyway I don’t believe it is necessary.’
‘You might become uncomfortable nearer the time and wish you were far from the high seas where no-one can attend if your baby comes before the ship can dock. You would be at the mercy of the inexperienced sailors, like Pr… Mason.’
I saw her look at me, speculating.
‘But you will be on board, Miss. As I understand it, you are listed as a convict and no-one can change that except the courts in Britain or the Governor in Australia. Or were you hoping to jump ship in Gibraltar?’
I flushed, as that was exactly what I was hoping to do, but it would be better to keep that to myself. What a secretive person I was becoming.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It is stipulated that each ship should carry not less than three proper boats, that wholesome provisions and a sufficiency of water should be furnished to the seamen, and that two windsails for ventilation purposes and an Osbridge’s machine for sweetening water should be in each vessel. This machine consisted of a hand pump which is inserted in a scuttle made at the top of a cask, and by means of it the water, being raised a few feet, falls through several sheets of tin pierced-like cullenders and placed in a half cylinder of the same metal. The purpose of it is to reduce the water into numberless drops, which being exposed in this form to the open air is deprived of its offensive quality.
The Convict Ships by Charles Bateson
One evening, having evaded my guard, as the light faded and a slight moon appeared, I found a quiet place on the deck to sit and think. I spent so much time in my little cabin that the air thinned and left me feeling quite wrung out. It was difficult to get away from the men who worked all hours to keep us moving towards a tiny corner of land in what seemed an endless sea. Despite Jones’ attempts to educate me in seafaring, I still found it unbelievable that the captain and first mate could locate a lump of rock that rose out of the vast and ever-shifting ocean with no guide-points other than the stars and a few charts. I had to admit to being very ignorant of geography.
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