Remember Me

by Lesley Pearse

  But what could she say? Not that she loved him or that he thrilled her. Nor could she ask if he intended to do it again to her, tonight or any other night. That was another reminder of her status, a wretched convict woman who had no rights and was considered to be without feelings or needs. She was pretty certain that most people imagined such women were incapable even of thought.

  He moved down the bunk a little, cradled his head against her breasts and almost instantly fell asleep, his arm tightly round her.

  Mary lay there for some time. The air coming through the porthole was clean and fresh, only Graham’s gentle breathing breaking the total silence. It was good to know that no rats were likely to run across her in the night as she slept, and no hunger pains would wake her. Yet she couldn’t sleep, for it suddenly occurred to her that she might be able to escape.

  Graham had locked the door when he came in, and she was sure he’d put the key in his jacket pocket. Could she possibly get out of the bunk and find her clothes and his keys without waking him? Would there be a guard posted outside?

  The last question was answered when she heard the tread of heavy boots pass by the door. She listened closely for some time, mentally seeing the route the guard was taking around the deck. As he approached the cabin door for a second time, she counted out the seconds before he made a complete circuit. Ninety seconds, but on the third circuit he stopped somewhere, perhaps to smoke a pipe, or rest.

  She realized then that there were too many unknown quantities to deal with to try to escape tonight. She didn’t know how heavy a sleeper Graham was, she wasn’t certain where the key was, nor had she checked the sides of the hulk to find the best place to climb down to the water. Jumping over the side would be foolhardy; she’d alert the guard in a second with the splash. All she could hope for was that Graham would want her again, that she could build up his trust in her, and meanwhile take careful note of the deck layout and best escape routes.

  Mary dreamed she was at home in bed with her sister Dolly, waking to find that the hand caressing her belly was Graham’s, not her sister’s. She feigned sleep, hoping he would drop off again too, but to her surprise she heard him lighting a candle.

  It was so tempting to open her eyes to see what he was doing, but if she did he might send her back to the hold, and she was too warm and snug to relish that. She felt him move the blanket back, and felt the slight heat from the candle coming nearer her.

  All at once she became aware he was sitting up, the candlestick in his hand, studying her body. It was unnerving, but still she didn’t open her eyes. He gently probed at her private parts with one finger, parting the hair, then with two fingers held the lips apart.

  It was even harder to pretend sleep, knowing he was looking at a part of her no one but herself had ever seen. She wondered why he wanted to look at it. Had he never seen one before? Or was he checking her for a disease?

  But as his finger slid over her there, the strangest sensations washed over her. It felt good, the way Thomas’s kisses had, and involuntarily she opened her legs a little wider. The hesitant rubbing became a little stronger, and she knew he was looking at that part of her, not at her face, because she could feel the warmth of his breath on her belly. She half opened her eyes and saw that he wasn’t holding the candlestick as she supposed; that was resting on the side of the bunk. He was rubbing his penis with one hand while stroking her intimately with the other.

  She shut her eyes tightly. She didn’t want the image of his fat belly to spoil the pleasure he was giving her. While it seemed peculiar that a man would prefer to do such things to her while she was asleep, rather than awake and responding, she had no real idea what lovers did to one another anyway.

  Again and again his finger slid into her, and it was all she could do to lie quietly and not call out. She could hear his breath becoming more laboured, his hand moving faster and faster on his penis, and then just as she was about to reach for him, urge him to put it inside her, he made a grunting sound and was still.

  He got back into bed beside her a few seconds later, and again fell soundly asleep. Once more Mary lay awake, disturbed by the feelings he’d aroused in her, and even more puzzled by his actions. Was he being caring by not waking her for what he wanted to do? Or was it some deviation of normal male behaviour?

  She must have fallen asleep eventually, for the next thing she knew he was shaking her. ‘Wake up, Mary,’ he said. ‘It’s time for you to go back.’

  It was barely dawn, just a faint pink glow in the east, as she walked across the deck, the chains back on her. Graham was in front of her, and as he reached the first of the two doors to the hold, he turned back to her.

  ‘Do not speak of this to anyone,’ he said, his face tight with tension. ‘If you are asked to explain your absence tell them you were locked up on deck as a punishment. Next time I will try to have a dress for you.’

  He said nothing more, just unlocked the first door, then went down to the next and unlocked that, gently nudging her in without a word of farewell.

  If anyone heard or saw her come in, they said nothing. Mary made her way to her bench, nudged Anne over as she had taken up her space, and lay down. After the warmth and softness of Graham’s bunk, the planks seemed very hard and cold. But she noticed it smelt far more pleasant in the hold, and that pleased her. Yet Graham’s last words had made her feel uneasy, for it was obvious he didn’t know how the other women would react to one of their number going missing for a night. They wouldn’t ask where she’d been, they’d just ignore her.

  To Mary’s utmost surprise there was no animosity towards her when she woke again later. In fact her status appeared to have been raised to one of heroine. ‘Did they flog you?’ Anne asked first, and with that every single woman, even the sick ones, raised themselves to thank Mary for her courage in demanding to see Graham. Only Sarah gave her a knowing look, and she grinned when Mary told the story that she’d been chained up on the deck until dawn.

  All the women seemed much less apathetic now the hold was cleaner, and throughout the day Mary was unable to get to speak to Sarah for them complimenting her, asking questions, and remarking on how no one else had ever dared do such a thing. The men were cleared out of their hold that morning too, for cleaning, and later, as they came back, Mary was subjected to shouted praise from them too.

  Will Bryant called her over to the grille. ‘You’re a plucky little lass,’ he called out. ‘Bless you for it.’

  ‘You got to marry her now,’ James Martin shouted, and Mary laughed along with the men, amused as much by their ribald remarks as their praise for her.

  ‘I won’t be holding you to it, Will Bryant,’ she called back. ‘I know you’re all talk, and besides, I’ve got no wedding finery in here with me.’

  While it felt good to receive so much admiration, Mary felt guilty too. The next time Graham called her out, not only would she lose all this respect, but they’d hate her for deceiving them.

  After dark she managed to slip on to Sarah’s bench to talk to her. ‘I was with Graham,’ she whispered. ‘What do I do now about all this?’

  ‘But for you there would be many more deaths,’ Sarah whispered back. ‘Besides, they’d all be offering their fannies if they thought there was anyone up there wanting them. But never mind that, what was it like?’

  ‘Not so bad,’ Mary replied. Much as she would have liked to share her experiences with her friend, she couldn’t out of loyalty to Graham. He had after all been kind to her.

  Four days later Mary was called again by Lieutenant Graham. This time she had been set to work cleaning the galley alone, and when she finished the filthy job, Graham appeared and ordered her into his cabin. It was late afternoon, and seconds after the door was locked behind her, she heard the male convicts arriving back from their outside work.

  Again he removed her shackles, and again there was water for her to bathe in. But he didn’t stop to undress, and took her swiftly, before she was even dry, and when he had fi
nished thrust a clean dress and petticoat at her.

  ‘You can’t stay up here,’ he said. ‘It would be noted. Put these on and be gone.’

  ‘Can I have something to eat?’ she asked as she put the petticoat on. It was very worn, but soft and clean. The grey dress was equally worn, but it looked wonderful to her as her old one was in shreds.

  ‘I thought you’d steal food while you were in the galley,’ he said with a sneer.

  ‘Our arrangement wasn’t for me to steal what I need,’ she said sharply. One of the guards had watched her most of the time she was in the galley, and to her disappointment all she’d managed to get her hands on was a bit of cheese. ‘I’ve kept my part of the bargain, so you keep yours.’

  As she put the new dress on he turned away and opened a tin box. ‘Very well,’ he said, his back turned to her. ‘But keep your mouth shut about this. If word gets out I’ll have you flogged.’

  He handed her a cold pasty and an apple.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, and made an insolent curtsy. ‘I won’t be boasting about it. I’m not proud to stoop this low either.’

  As he bent to lock her chains, she felt his hurt. She might have added something kinder, but she was too busy eating the pasty.

  The weeks and months passed very slowly into autumn and finally to winter, bringing with it the prospect of freezing to death. With only one blanket apiece, the women huddled even closer together at night. There were several more deaths among the older ones, but a new influx took their places, and still there was no news of the transportation.

  Will Bryant had been on the Dunkirk for two years already and he often joked to Mary through the grille that his seven-year sentence would be up before they set sail.

  Mary was still every bit as desperate to escape. She knew the layout of the upper decks intimately: who patrolled at any given time of the day; the times when there were fewer guards on duty. But no feasible opportunity to escape had presented itself yet, however vigilant she was. She certainly wasn’t going to attempt it in a foolhardy way, for if she was caught she could expect a hundred lashes at least.

  So, like Will, she had learned to bear her imprisonment, concentrating her energies on finding ways to alleviate the misery and stay alive and healthy. Whilst her continuing good health and her work up on deck, and nights away, did create some jealousy among the other women, she still commanded their respect for being their spokeswoman when required. She also helped herself to anything useful which came her way – rags for the women’s menses, soap and small amounts of food when she could get it – and gave it away to those who needed it most.

  Mary Haydon and Catherine Fryer, along with Aggie as their vociferous mouthpiece, did their best to make the other women turn against Mary, but the only real charge that stuck against her was that she was aloof and proud. Mary didn’t mind them saying that of her – pride to her wasn’t a fault – and as for being aloof, she supposed she was, in as much as she kept her own counsel and tried to rise above the petty squabbling some of the others went in for. But no one ever called her a whore, though she was well aware that was in fact what she’d become, even if it was only with Lieutenant Graham.

  Once, sometimes twice, a week she slept in his cabin. He slipped her extra food, gave her clean clothes now and then, and showed her a certain amount of affection. But she was still nowhere nearer understanding the man.

  At times it seemed as if he was in love with her, at others he appeared to loathe her. She now knew he was married with two children, and when he did speak of his wife Alicia it was almost with awe. Yet he persisted in bedding Mary, and seemed desperate for her to say she loved him. At times he gave her some pleasure, but more often his love-making was like the first night, fast, furious and without any feeling.

  Mary’s feelings for Graham were based on pity more than anything else, for she sensed he was a complicated man, who didn’t appear to have any true friends. He had no real love for the Marines and had told her many times he wished he could resign his commission. Mary sensed he was a coward, and that he lived in fear of being given new orders to go somewhere dangerous. Yet he liked the power he had as an officer and knew there was no place for him in civilian life.

  Mary suspected that even the marriage he claimed was such a happy one survived because husband and wife were apart so much. Lieutenant Captain Watkin Tench, whom Graham belittled at every opportunity, was a far happier man.

  Tench was Mary’s other problem, for she felt she had fallen in love with him. While she doubted she would ever have looked his way if she’d met him when she was free, right from the first night they talked, she’d been smitten. It wasn’t for his looks, which weren’t that remarkable, nor because he could be relied on to give her extra food. It was because he cared about people, even convicts. He could command without brutality, and had a sense of humour too.

  She loved his ready smile, a certain eagerness for life, his generosity of spirit and his lack of prejudice. She had long since given up any hope of him as a lover, but she counted him as a friend.

  She knew now that it was he rather than Graham who put her on the list for work up on deck. He always spoke to her kindly, and listened sympathetically when she went to him with complaints. While mostly he couldn’t reduce the hardships the prisoners had to bear, for decisions were made much further up the hierarchy, he did what he could.

  Tench was well aware of Mary’s arrangement with Graham, but he did not appear to despise her for it. He was an intelligent and adventurous man, who had already seen more of the world than anyone else Mary had known. He liked order and calm, but he was courageous too, loyal and dutiful to his King and Country. Mary doubted he would ever lie or take a bribe, yet he had compassion for those who did.

  He loved books, and had told Mary that he kept a meticulous diary which he hoped might be published one day. Mary often wondered if he mentioned her in his writings, for she felt he was fond of her. He had said once that he wrote a great deal about his view of the penal system, because it would be of interest in the future to historians.

  One day just before Christmas, Mary was called out for washing duties with Bessie. It was a bitterly cold day, and for once Mary would have been glad not to have been chosen. Bending over a tub of washing, up to her armpits in icy water and exposed to the elements, was not something to be desired. Only the prospect of possibly seeing Tench made it bearable.

  It was even worse than she feared. The wind from the sea cut through the poorly clad women like a knife. Bessie began to cry within minutes of putting her hands in the cold water, and however much Mary tried to take her mind off it, she couldn’t be cheered.

  They didn’t wash the clothes as thoroughly as they had during the summer and by noon the job was completed, the whole deck festooned with wet shirts which would freeze on the lines.

  As they made their way back to the hold, Tench appeared. ‘I want a word with Mary Broad,’ he said to the guard. ‘I’ll take her back myself in a few minutes.’

  To Mary’s surprise and delight, he ushered her into his cabin on the deck and gave her a cup of tea to drink. She clasped the cup with her two hands to warm them.

  ‘Bless you,’ she said gratefully. ‘I’m so cold I thought I might die in a few more minutes.’

  ‘I didn’t just bring you in here to let you get warm,’ he said. ‘I have some news for you. Your transportation has been arranged.’

  ‘When and where to?’ she asked, hoping it was to be soon, to somewhere warmer than here.

  ‘We are bound for New South Wales,’ he said.

  Mary could only stare at him for a moment. He had told her what he knew of this country on the other side of the world in a previous conversation. Captain Cook had reported on a place there he had named Botany Bay, which it was thought might be suitable for a penal colony. But at the time Tench told her this, he considered New South Wales was unlikely to be the final destination of the convicts on the Dunkirk.

  ‘“We” are to g
o?’ she said. ‘You mean you too?’ She didn’t think she’d mind being sent to hell if Tench was to be there along with her.

  He smiled. ‘Me too, they need Marines to keep you all in order. I am excited at the prospect. It’s a new country, one I very much want to see. England needs a presence in that part of the world, and if this country is all that has been reported, it could become an important place for us.’

  Tench’s enthusiasm warmed Mary even more than the hot tea. As he went on to speak of the fleet of eleven ships being sent, of convicts building towns, of farming and being given free land when their sentences were up, she shared some of his excitement. She had always wanted to travel, a long voyage by sea didn’t daunt her, and if they were to be the first people to land at Botany Bay there could possibly be good opportunities for someone as quick-witted as herself.

  ‘Swear you won’t tell the other women,’ he warned her. ‘I’m only telling you because I hoped it might cheer you. I watched you earlier out there in the cold and my heart went out to you.’

  He went on to tell her that Botany Bay had some native people with black skin, that the government believed there was flax and timber there, and the climate was good, far warmer than in England. He said Captain Cook had reported many strange animals and birds, including a large furry beast that bounded along on its back legs, and a huge flightless bird. But though Mary was interested to know more about this new country so far away, it was Tench’s words, ‘my heart went out to you’, that resonated in her mind.

  ‘When will we sail?’ was all she could ask.

  Tench sighed. ‘We have orders to take you to the ships on the 7th of January, but I suspect it will be some time before we set sail. Captain Phillip, who is commanding this operation, is not yet satisfied with the supplies of goods and food to be taken with us.’

  ‘Will I be on the same ship as you?’ Mary asked.