A Distant Dream

by Vivienne Dockerty

  “So what’s a nice girl like you trailin’ across the ocean with a load of children in tow?” He had asked with fetid breath, not really interested in her answer, but he had to say something to get her attention.

  “Oh, I’m taking them across to Adelaide, where they’ll find domestic work with some of the settlers.”

  “And yerself?”

  “I have the choice of going back to Ireland and perhaps escorting a few more lucky girls to seek a better life like these will have, or I can find myself a position as a children’s nurse. The nuns have very kindly given me a letter of recommendation.”

  “And what do yer think yer’ll be doin’ then?”

  “I can’t say. I’ll wait until I get there, probably get a job as a nursemaid for a couple of years.”

  “You could come with me.” He lowered his voice, as if he thought a spy might be listening.“I’ll be jumping ship when we get there. I’m off to the gold fields in Victoria. I’ve heard you can make a fortune there.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll be quite happy earning a living in other ways.”

  Jimmy leered at her as she had walked into his trap quite innocently. “I can arrange me cabin mate to go for a walk one night and you and me could see some action in me hammock. How about it? I could leave the hatch open tonight.”

  Being a Catholic girl, brought up by nuns and at one time considering becoming a novice herself, it had taken a while to understand his meaning, at first thinking he was offering her better accommodation with him and the crew. Of course to do that would be unthinkable and she was about to thank him and reject his offer, when the meaning of his words caused her to pause. She looked shocked and felt anger. Had he not been in the position he was in, she would have slapped the smirk from his face. Who did he think she was, some sort of hussy, giving her favours to any horrid man? She called for the children, gathering them together under a protective wing and turned on her heel, enraged.

  Chapter Six

  As the ship continued on, the sea breezes pushing the billowing sails along the coast of Portugal and into the Atlantic on its way to one of the Canary Isles, life aboard the Umpherston settled into a routine. The weather was balmy and the cabin passengers took to sitting in wooden chairs that had been placed along the starboard side. Their days, when they were not resting in their cabins, were spent chatting, eating and playing some sort of deck game with a hoop, that the doctor appeared to have invented.

  Sir Rodney, Lady Harriet and Clarence took measures to see for themselves how the makeshift school progressed, seeing that they’d had a hand in its creation. At first, parents were reluctant to have their children schooled in lettering and numbers, seeing it as a waste of time. Labourers and domestics did not have scholars for offspring, they muttered between themselves when the idea was first mooted by Mr. Colmayne at mess time one day but Lady Harriet, brisk and bluff, with a vision of how the colony could progress in the future, said attendance would have to be compulsory as the teacher was being paid. It soon appeared that the table, normally used for meals and recreation by the older steerage passengers, would not have been a popular place for the children to have their schooling, so the saloon where the cabin class had their supper, was pressed into service for a couple of hours each day.

  *

  It was a few days later when the Umpherston sailed into the harbour of one of the Canary Isles. The cabin passengers, up on deck to view the doughty ship’s progress, were enthralled by the landscape that met their eyes. Volcanic ash had darkened the narrow beaches, a result of past eruptions from the distant mountain. Palm trees grew on the hillsides, where white washed buildings clung. As they neared the moorings, olive skinned, dark haired people were busily setting up a quayside market, laying out their produce on gaudy looking blankets, or selling their wares from a barrow or a cart.

  “Bananas” said Bessie happily, turning to Margaret Trowbridge, who over the evenings spent together after supper she had found to be a little shy. “The only time that I have ever had a banana was when I visited Sligo and stayed with my husband’s family.”

  “We usually had them at Christmastime” Margaret said sadly. “We bought them mostly for the children, along with a few oranges too.”

  Margaret’s four children were grown up now with families of their own and all with professions as befitted an upper middle class, public school educated family. It appeared though that one of her sons was following in his father’s architectural footsteps, and was considering a new life abroad. “I’m missing the grandchildren” she continued wistfully.

  “You might not stay in Adelaide forever,” Bessie soothed. “It could be that Mr. Trowbridge will return to England when all the new building ends.”

  “Let’s hope so. I would hate to think that I would never see my family again.”

  She thought for a moment before saying “I haven’t seen a lot of your daughter, Molly. The last time I saw her, Mr. Filbey was carrying her up on deck.”

  “Oh, that’s because she is being taken care of by her nurse in steerage. Unfortunately there weren’t enough cabins to go around. They seem happy enough and they are sharing accommodation with lots of other girls.”

  Oh what a tangled web we weave when we first do deceive.

  “Look over there, Margaret,” she said brightly, nudging her new friend in the hope of quickly changing the subject. “There’s Alice Foley and Lily Dickinson. Oh, followed closely by Lady Harriet. Perhaps we can disembark together and have a look around.”

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t like the child, Bessie justified to herself as she followed the chattering women down the gangplank, there to join their husbands who had exchanged British shillings with the captain for Spanish doubloons; it was because in their small cabin they would have difficulty in swinging a cat.

  *

  Down in steerage there was a muttering again amongst the single men. Fed up with being shut into the hold for what they considered to be long periods and not at all necessary in their eyes and with the ship having dropped anchor in a foreign country, where perhaps they could have stretched their legs ashore, one or two of them were beginning to consider mutiny.

  Jimmy was tied up as he was helping to moor the ship and overseeing the taking on board of fresh meat, a couple of pigs, hessian sacks full of oranges, bananas, pumpkins and pineapples. He wasn’t there to hear the murmuring which had begun after people had awoken and found that the hatch was locked against them again. The bucket carriers and the tray bearing mess captains who had been assigned to bring the breakfasts, were greatly put out. Johnny Healey was a pock-marked man that you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley, having built up his muscles carrying heavy loads at the docks in Tilbury. He began banging his tin plate on the table, much as he would have done if he had been travelling on a convict ship and not one subsidised by Her Majesty’s Commissioners. George Colmayne, urged on by his worried wife, who had asked him to go and talk to the man as people all around had begun to feel nervous, crawled out of his bunk then strode along to the men’s quarters to see if he could help.

  “They didn’t tell us that it was one rule for us and one for them,” Johnny cried, after George had asked if he could listen to his grievances. “They said that we would be free settlers. Free means moving around when yer want to, not stuck down ‘ere waitin’ until someone bothers to open the hatch and let us out. We’re all herded together like in a cattle ship.”

  George nodded sympathetically. He felt the same as Johnny did, but as it was free passage there was not a lot they could do.

  “I’ll speak to someone,” he promised, looking around at the other men who had begun to form a group, fed up with their captivity, especially as there was still a lot of ocean to travel.

  “Meantime” he said, looking over to a man who had been entertaining them over the last few nights, “give us a tune on your fiddle, Seamus and seeing as there won’t be any lessons this morning, the girls can have a dance.”

  It was
the middle of the day before Jimmy arrived, throwing open the hatch to allow the appointed to carry out their deeds. He wasn’t prepared for the rush of people who knocked him to the ground in their haste to free themselves whilst George stood back looking on in horror. Jimmy got to his feet and raced off to summon help, bringing back three rough looking sailors armed with muskets who came racing along the deck.

  “It was a show of solidarity” George, who had been appointed spokesman said when the men were taken before the captain in order to hear their punishment. “How would you like it if you had to spend your life in a cattle pen?”

  His words were heard by not only O’Neill but Sir Rodney, who being Her Majesty’s representative, had been summoned to the hearing as well. Being a compassionate man and having seen for himself the conditions that the free settlers were having to put up with and knowing that the captain had not, he asked for leniency and asked whether perhaps a little more freedom could be granted too? Captain O’Neill, well aware that there were many ships now in competition for the lucrative contracts awarded by Her Majesty’s Commissioners, agreed that he would think about it, but for the moment the men involved would have to scrub the decks for a week.

  It was the talk of the table that evening. Later when sitting with the captain, each of them eating a freshly cooked steak from a whole cow that had been brought on board to keep the cabin class fed until they reached Cape Town, Lady Harriet, briefed by her husband on the limitations of his intervention between the captain and the passengers’ welfare, suggested that the ladies present should put their heads together and come up with some ideas to keep to keep the steerage dwellers occupied.

  “The conditions are disgusting down there” she said to the ladies, when their husbands were on their port and cigars and they had retired to their corner to drink coffee. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they all go down with dysentery and the smell – I was glad I had a handkerchief in my reticule.”

  Bessie nodded. She had been down there that day, taking a bag filled with fruit, the bananas and a few navel oranges especially for the orphan girls and hoped that their delight upon receiving the goodies, wouldn’t cause too much jealousy amongst the other passengers. She was well aware of the conditions below deck and often wondered if she was being fair to Molly by leaving her there, though the child seemed content and never gave her more than a passing glance when she visited. Maura, wondering why this might be, reckoned that Molly had been a late baby, as Mrs. Filbey must be way past her childbearing years and was quick to speak of the child’s cleverness in counting up to five.

  They were all grateful for George Colmayne’s tuition. Even one or two of the men had joined his classes, though many wondered why. Could it have been the walk around the deck and the biscuits and milk that were served to his scholars that attracted them?

  “Well, I think that there should be a cleaning rota amongst the women passengers” said Alice. With her husband being the ship’s doctor, she was aware that a regular scrubbing of the steerage area, instead of when one or two sailors could be spared, wouldn’t go amiss. “Many hands make light work and I’m quite willing to oversee a group of women to see that things are properly done.”

  “I can sew” said Margaret Trowbridge. “I’m sure we all can and have brought a few things with us that can be used for mending tears or stitching hems.”

  “My talent is floristry” said Lily Dickinson. “I don’t think there will be much call for floristry on board.”

  “I can crochet” said Bessie. “I have brought some crochet hooks and a few skeins of wool.”

  “I am sure you could all contribute to their welfare” Lady Harriet boomed. “Even you Mrs. Dickinson. I am sure you could help Mrs. Trowbridge to organise a sewing group. Splendid, splendid, we’ll make a start after we’ve lifted anchor. Now I wonder what we can think up for the men to keep them occupied?”

  *

  By the time the ship had tied up at the docks in Cape Town, there was a happier atmosphere aboard the Umpherston. They were halfway through the voyage and to celebrate, the captain had allowed all passengers on deck to watch as the ship steered across Table Bay to a berth at the busy wharf.

  Poor, crudely built shanties sat cheek by jowl with the granary stores and warehouses; black skinned workers loaded bales of wool, crates of fruit and tons of grain onto the many sailing ships that had come from the four corners of the world.

  Farmers, their heads covered from the sun with floppy hats, were on their way to market, or heading back to their land in the far flung areas of the Transvaal. They drove laden covered carts pulled by teams of bullocks; whilst locals took advantage of the many travellers, selling worthless gewgaws as souvenirs. In the distance, in the taverns of the fast growing town beneath the shade of the Table Mountain, British and Afrikaner masters did financial deals on land and property.

  This time, the cabin folk had been given rand in exchange for their shillings and were allowed to troop down the gangplank one by one, but as Johnny said to the men who stood beside him, who were muttering that they weren’t allowed to go ashore again:

  “We ain’t got a feckin’ shillin’ to spend between us anyway!”

  *

  Whilst the loaded ship waited out in the Indian Ocean for favourable winds to hasten their voyage along the last leg of their journey, a woman gave birth behind the curtained area in the female quarters which served as the vessel’s hospital and two children went down with a bad dose of “the trots.” Lady Harriet swung into action; there was no way that sickness or infection was going to cause an epidemic on a Her Majesty’s commissioned ship. Just imagine what people would say if they got to hear that the Umpherston, carrying carefully selected workers to populate the free colony of Adelaide, had been stricken with an onset of dysentery or a child had died because of it. It was enough to make her rally her cabin dwelling troops.

  Bessie, who was in charge of Lysol and scrubbing brushes, scurried down to steerage to oversee the team of willing females who had already begun their quest for cleanliness, whilst all the men were banned to the decks. The two sick children were isolated behind the ‘hospital’ curtain in the capable hands of Alice Foley and the new mother and child were sent to rest in one of the cabins above.

  Margaret Trowbridge and Lily Dickinson were given the job of distributing the contents of the many sacks of fruit. Bananas, oranges, pineapples and fat, round melons which had been destined for the captain’s table and would have lasted the diners until they had got to Adelaide, had been purloined by Lady Harriet and no one would argue with that. She became the steerage passengers’ hero, even if she did treat some of them as if she had a smell under her nose. Which she had, given that there were no washing facilities other than a few shared buckets and no baths to bathe in anyway and the stench could have got even worse if she hadn’t intervened when she had.

  “Do you know, Filbey?” Bessie said grimly, after she had washed Molly from top to toe then settled the child on a makeshift bed of blankets on their cabin floor that evening, Clarence having been concerned that the poor little mite might catch an infection if she stayed with the orphan girls. “Do you know, I think that Maggie’s sister cannot speak. I’ve only ever heard her say the words, “want Maggie.” How old is she? Three, four maybe? Sara’s children were gabbling away at this age.”

  “You’re forgettin’ where she’s come from, Bessie” he replied, looking down fondly on the sleeping child, whom Bessie had stripped of her dirty clothes and given them to their cabin maid for washing, with the promise of an extra tip. “A cabin dweller, with parents trying to make a living from the land that they tenanted. Hardly a family who would worry about whether she could talk or not. She’ll be fine now she’s got the other girls to talk to. You’ll soon be telling little Molly to hold her tongue.”

  “Hmm, well just as long as we haven’t taken on an imbecile. Our life will be difficult enough without that.”

  She was right, life in the future would get difficul
t, Clarence thought, as he rested on his bunk waiting for Monica to summon them to dinner. It appeared, after talking to Sir Rodney, that to own a substantial bit of land in the colony they were going to have to travel south. There were drover trails they could follow and stopping points along the way, but unless he bought a horse and cart to get them to this place called Willunga, which he had decided they were going to take a chance on, it was going to be a hell of journey with the two trunks and a child to carry along too.

  He sighed as he mentally counted the sovereigns that he had left in the leather pouch which he kept on his person, except for when he had a wash. It had seemed a fortune when he had pulled the money from its hiding place, especially with the thought of his money from Colooney too. But there had been the extra cost of their passage and now the horse and cart it would seem they would need, plus the price of a bit of furniture if they managed to find some sort of dwelling to move into and accommodation on the way. He thanked God he had taken a loan from his brother in law, or he’d have been reduced to working for a master, which he never, ever wanted to do again.

  Bessie, sitting on the other bunk, her hands busily crocheting a table runner for the table which she hoped to own when they got settled somewhere, was more concerned with keeping up socially with the other members of the cabin dwellers’ circle. Wherever this Willunga place was, it wasn’t going to be near enough to attend the soirees that Lady Harriet was planning, nor the six bedroomed house that Margaret Trowbridge would have as her residence, once her architect husband had chosen his piece of land overlooking the ocean, near the township of Glenelg. Alice Foley had been dismissed as a possible friend in the future as she would be travelling backwards and forwards across the oceans with her surgeon husband and Lily Dickinson, destined to live in whichever headquarters that her husband was assigned to. She would hardly be in a position to entertain.

  It had seemed to Bessie that they might have had the chance of coming up in the world, now that they were rubbing shoulders with the likes of her ladyship, who would be mixing with the cream of the Adelaide social circle. According to Clarence however, Sir Rodney, someone who was in the know about the land that was available and had kindly shown him a map, had said that this Willunga place was quite a distance from the city. Much of the land had been bought from the Crown by settlers who had arrived in the colony a few years earlier. Houses had been built and there was an inn, a general store and a slate quarry. Sir Rodney had said that the area in the south was vast and there was still plenty of acres to be had for those who had the money and he had hinted that if Filbey needed a helping hand with anything to do with purchasing it, he only had to say.