“What are you doing here?” he asked, as his own breath settled.
“Running away, same as you, I reckon,” said the voice. “So we’re not going to give each other away, are we?” It was more of a statement than a question.
“No, of course not,” said Matthew, and he could sense a palpable feeling of relief from the other. They sat in silence before she said, “do you got anything to eat?”
When Matthew said “No,” he heard a rustle, and a hand found his, to put an apple into it.
“I stole a whole bag of ‘em down in the market, I was so hungry I couldn’t help it. Then I was running like mad wif lots of grownups after me, when I gets down to the dock and there is a big fight going on. There be lots of shouting and pushing and I somehow ended up on this boat, in this here little boat. I got here just before you did.”
“Ah, I wondered why there were suddenly so many people in the dock area,” said Matthew and then told her his story, of the fight and how he was looking for Miss Jessica.
There was a satisfying silence between them as they ate another apple and then exchanged names.
“I’m Matthew Hooper,” he said, when he had finished chewing.
“I’m Jenny Hollows,” said the voice in the dark.
“Like the prison?”
“I was born there, but I got no family.”
“Well Little Jenny,” Matthew replied briefly saddened at the thought. “Me neither. Maybe we can see outside a small bit?”
As Matthew lifted a corner of the cover he stole a glance at his companion. Her hair and face were filthy and he immediately picked her for one of the thousands of street urchins who live by their wits, homeless but strong in a brotherhood of loners. Her dress was tattered and the rose pattern had all but disappeared under the grime, but she had a very pretty face and laughing eyes. Surprisingly, she had the whitest of teeth, for many children her age have had their teeth and facial features disfigured by abuse and malnutrition, but she smiled beautifully at Matthew, who grinned back.
Below them was a parade of persons that fascinated the stowaways. The movement carried on at the same frantic pace Matthew had seen on the other ship, while here they could clearly recognise the delineation of the classes. Ahead, the well-off toffs strolled the upper decks, splendid in their top hats and walking canes, the women wearing starched crinoline dresses, bonnets and shawls. When they walked below the lifeboat, there was the smell of aniseed and perfume drifting on the air.
The sailors were easy to recognise. All were poorly dressed, and most were barefoot; and though they were hard at work, it was apparent that many were not relishing the prospect of an ocean voyage. Occasionally one would vomit and a burly seaman with a short knotted rope would make the hapless sailor clean up the mess forthwith.
Looking forward to the other end of the ship he could just see a gaping hole in the deck, into which a steady stream of traders and poorer people were carrying their bags. The repugnant smell of burning sulphur added to other unwholesome smells that seemed to rise out of this pit. He was grateful that Miss Jessica would not have to suffer the evils of that awful place.
“We’re off!” cried Matthew excitedly.
Sailors were running everywhere, and he could see heavy ropes being hauled on board. A group of musicians on the dock struck up a song, and unexpectedly there was the sound of women crying. Matthew felt nothing but elation. Every moment now would be taking him further away from capture and further away from the squalor he had known. No matter what lay ahead, he thought it had to be better and he was willing to take his chances. Little Jenny stayed close beside him, their alert eyes taking in the scene.
The steerage passengers were huddled in near silence, save the occasional sob, looking across the deck to the slowly receding shore. Above them, the children of the gentry held streamers to well-wishers on the shore. From the deck to the dock and back, cries and cheers, calls and tears all mingled as the streamers broke, but palpably the mood on board was subdued with sadness and anxiety. Everyone knew they might never, ever return to these wet shores; some with deep-felt regret, others with uplifting excitement and joy.
The two stowaways ate three more apples each, as the mighty ship, helped by manned long boats and the tide, steered out into the river. A fair wind blew down the river and though they couldn’t see them, the ties on the square yards were loosened, and preparation was made for the great sails to be dropped. But instead of sailing, a great rumbling noise at the bow told the passengers that the anchor was going down. They looked towards each other, speechless. Had they been discovered? What would happen if they were caught and sent back? The two waifs clung to each other with a need and a terror of the unknown.
A bell rang and as they watched, people came from the upper deck with plates in hand, towards what appeared to be a kitchen. When no knocking came on their hiding place, Matthew relaxed slightly, and his active mind was already forming a plan.
“When I see Miss Jessica come down the steps, I will slip into the food line with her. If I can quickly tell my story, she will protect me, and then hide me.”
He thought this was a good and simple plan. Little Jenny was sceptical. She reasoned that she would have better chance of being hidden by the people who were her own kind, the type who were down below deck, so she said she would wait for them to line up for dinner. So they waited. Matthew checked each face, each neat Sunday dress, each woman with children, but none appeared who could be his Miss Jessica. As the numbers of well-dressed people from the upper deck dwindled away to none, he was crestfallen and confused. Where was she? Was she sick? Were they all sick? If something had happened and she was not even on the boat, then his future might be very grim indeed.
Two sailors went to the cooking area, and he watched them lift the cauldron the rich people had eaten from. They carried it to the pit, and disappeared from view. Matthew decided that when the time was right, he would boldly drop down and ask one of the ladies if she knew Miss Jessica. Failing that, he would go to the upper deck and try to find her. Little Jenny prepared herself to face going into the awful pit.
They ate more of the dwindling supply of apples, and though uncomfortable, they were warm and dry. Despite the excitement below, with milling passengers getting in the way of a largely inexperienced crew, unexpectedly sleep overtook them.
They slept in each other’s arms as children do and only woke to the clanging of a bell, and the scurrying of feet. Indeed, they had slept right through the night and now it was broad daylight. By peeking under the cover, they could clearly see the anchor being hauled up, its massive chain turning link by ponderous link, hauled upwards for nearly an hour. By then, a good number of crew and passengers were on deck, making an unseen escape more and more difficult.
Finally, a sailor below them said to a companion, “There goes the Pilot and that useless Health Inspector,” but that meant nothing to them. They watched as two other men climbed over the side of the boat and disappeared.
A whistle piped, and the sailors were again seen running in all directions. This time most were shinnying up the masts like monkeys. More shouts and curses and to their wonderment a cloud of dirty white canvas unfolded from above their heads. The ship heeled over in the wind and for one terrifying moment they thought the whole boat was going to fall right over. They clung to each other and screamed. It heeled further and its speed and movement steadily increased. No longer a stable platform, it began to rise and fall, thudding and responding to the elements it had entered. Then, as one fear subsided, another was about to take its place. A rapid beating on the hull of their hiding place made them freeze. It came again and again, now with shouts to come out. Had they been spotted?
“Oi you brats! Get outa that longboat now or I’ll be in there with a rope end.”
Matthew raised the cover - to look down on the upturned face of a most unwholesome looking character. The red bandana was missing, as were three teeth in the scarred and battered face. The head had been fres
hly shaved; the scraggly beard also was lathered and gone. The sailor’s jacket was now red, rather than the filthy blue that he had previously worn, but there was no mistaking the flat, evil eyes, or the handle of the knife in its sheath. Matthew nearly heaved his stomach in fright; the killer of the African was just a few feet below and looking straight up at him.
“Will you hit us if we come down?”
“I’ll smack yer senseless if ya don’t.”
They slid down a holding rope, before standing close, huddled together in fear. The sailor looked up and down the slim body of Jenny, then directly at Matthew, with eyes as cold as a snake.
“So, we meet again. You’ll be sorry about that soon enough.”
Matthew was speechless. The man was a vicious killer, the kind he hoped he would never again encounter and all too soon here he was, leering at them.
To them both, the man sneered, “Every voyage is the same. Why don’t you brats ever learn? If you knew what you were in for, you would never have left home. The name is Pig Murphy and you two gotta go to the Captain, though heaven help both of you. Especially you boy. Come with me, you unlucky, dirty little bastards.”
He led them along the deck, past the awful smelling pit, past the kitchen and to a small door. He knocked and then shoved them roughly inside, groping Jenny as he did so with a lingering hand on her buttocks.
This was an immigrant ship, better than a slaver, better than a freighter, but not much better than either. Not a fighting ship, nor pirate, it worked the trade of settlers looking for a new start, away from the sordid tribulations of Victorian England. As for captain and crew, while a few good men took to the sea with a passion for it, most endured the discomforts and rigours for dark reasons of their own. This Captain was one of the latter. He was by far the cleanest man the children had ever seen. His clothes were spotless, his fingernails clean. Though his face wore no powder like the pompous gentry of town, there was an unhealthy blush on his cheek. He eyed them both up and down, looking at Matthew slowly with particular interest. Matthew and Jenny shuffled nervously, terrified as any small animal being inspected for slaughter. So unnatural was his look, that they held hands in fright as they stood before him. The effete captain spoke in a strong yet strangely high pitched voice.
“Alright, you two are officially stowaways, which means, you are nothing but a pain to me. You have no worth, and if I keep you alive you are just two more mouths to feed.”
The two were transfixed, staring at this man who held their lives in his hands and Matthew felt his bowels move.
“Please don’t kill us, sir, we can both work very hard if you want us to,” Matthew had an inspiration and added, “I have worked for a cobbler for five years and can sew shoes really nice.”
“And you, girl?”
Jenny thought as rapidly as her fear would let her.
“I can clean and sew, really good, sir.” The Captain said nothing, but continued to look them up and down with calculating eyes. His eyes lingered at length on the small body of Matthew.
“Alright Murphy. Take him to the galley; Cookie can use an extra hand there. And take the girl to Mrs Merton in cabin 3C. She was looking for a maidservant from the steerage before the trip. Now you two. You will work your passage, there will be no pay, but we will find you a set of clothes each. You can make a new start for yourselves in New Zealand - that is, if the Maoris don’t eat you first.”
They barely heard the last part as they thanked him, and then excitedly went out the door. Jenny was a little older than Matthew, showing the first flush of beauty to come and he loved the way she affectionately hugged him as they parted.
“It will all turn out well for us, Matthew, you will see. We are going to NEW ZEALAND!”
Down at the galley - for so the kitchen was called, Matthew met Harry, another boy of the same age. Though Matthew had endured a hard life, he was relatively unmarked, while Harry, on the other hand, was badly scarred from the pox. It had ravished his face and weeping sores covered his hands and arms. His bright red hair stood askew on his head and there was a sort of resigned madness on his face.
He showed Matthew where his hammock was slung and then looked at him directly and said,
“Cor blimey, someone with your good looks is in a lotta trouble.” Matthew begged him to tell more.
“The Captain really likes little boys. You are safe for three days till we get past the Needles and into international waters, and then he will make you his cabin boy. Then your troubles will really start. This is me third trip and on the last trip the cabin boy, Bill Bates, he disappeared one night overboard, one week out of Sydney.”
“How do you know about all this?”
“He uses me when he is desperate.”
Matthew was horrified. He could only guess what the other boy was talking about and again he felt his bowels move.
“Oh, no, I’ve - I’ve got to shit.”
“Not here, or you will really take a beating. Get up to the front end of the boat and you sit on the plank and do your stuff overboard.”
He just made it to the plank and when the apple had finally stopped flowing, he was able to take stock of his position. Looking down at the bow, he watched as its cleavage powerfully carved the ocean, forcing its way forward with unspeakable energy. Mighty waves attacked it, but the ship was mightier and knew its own power. Matthew was thrilled and amazed at the spectacle. As he stood gazing, there was a cry behind him and he saw Jenny as she lifted her skirt and did the same ablution. He respectfully turned away.
“Tis the apples!” he said, laughing.
“I’m afraid so,” came back a musical, untroubled laugh, which made him grin, just as the next bout came. He pulled down his pants again and made it next to her, just in time. They couldn’t talk for long as they had each been given one sand glass of time to toilet, but promised to meet again as soon as possible. He made his way back to the galley, a little white-faced but feeling better.
He had learned from Mr Pig Murphy that cooks on deep sea ships are usually called ‘The Doctor’, but this one was ‘Mr James’ or ‘Cookie,’. He was a surprisingly jolly whiskered man, with a big belly and a laugh to suit, at least fifty years old and absolutely bald on his reddened, weathered head. His nails were cracked and split and his hands showed scars and burns, presumably from many incidents in the galley when at sea. He controlled the galley as his own personal kingdom. Woe betide anyone, passenger or crew trying to use his ovens without permission.
He set the two boys to peeling potatoes, while he had a swig of medicine and started on a pease pudding. Behind them, visible from where they were sitting, were a number of crated animals, both large and small. The only ducks, hens, and geese Matthew had ever seen were hung up dead and naked in the butcher’s shop. Here he was fascinated by their bright eyes and feathers and the funny noises they made. Six sheep, four lambs, eight pigs, three cows and a horse, all had to be tended with food and water.
Matthew was amazed at the quantities of food being prepared, but with nearly two hundred souls on board for a four month voyage, a small mountain of food was required. Most was stored in casks down in the bilges in the dark lower decks.
“Don’t get caught by anyone down there alone,” Harry ominously warned him.
“Especially by Pig Murphy,” said Matthew, but didn’t elaborate his thoughts to his new friend.
Harry was pleased to have someone his own age to talk to and share the work. He told Matthew that the cook had a good heart and generally tried to protect the boys, but when he got drunk on his medicine, another person inside took over and it was best to stay clear of him. The rest of the crew didn’t even notice small boys, but the Captain was something else. Again, Harry shook his head sorrowfully. He was about to speak more, when a loud cry went out from a big blond Scandinavian seaman. Harry said that he was Mr Olsen, the First Mate.
“Starboard watch. Let fly the fore top gallants.” The cry ran from one sailor to another. From various position
s on the deck, sailors arrived at the shrouds and ratlines holding up the mainmast, and began the steady climb upwards. Matthew craned his head. The bodies became smaller and smaller as they climbed the height of three times the roof of his house. With each roll of the ship, they hesitated and clung, before moving even further upwards. Harry said there was a fair wind and when the top-gallant was out they would have their best sailing. They continued to watch, with many of the passengers who were also seeing this for the first time. Soon the topmost sail on the huge mast was flying, drawing wind into its belly and pushing the boat further and faster south. Matthew was thrilled. He had no idea these exciting things ever happened in the world. The cook growled good-naturedly and the boys were quickly back to the peelings.
“Tell me about the Captain,” Matthew begged Harry.
“Well, once we are out to the real sea, you had better watch very carefully. He will call you into his cabin and you better find some way of not going there. If you go there then you will be made his cabin boy and will sleep in the cubicle next to his bed. Nothing will happen and he will be real nice, but the next night…..” his words trailed off and he struggled to continue. Matthew had no idea what could be so bad, but he begged him to continue.
Harry said, “He will want to touch you all over, and then – and then – it – and then – it gets worse.”
“I’ve been beaten lots of times. Wot’s worse than that?”
Harry looked sadly at him and then turned to the cook.
“The potatoes are done, Mr James, sir. Shall we go below and get the pork and raisins?”
“Good boy. Take young Matthew with you and show him the ropes.”
They went off aft together, down the stairs past the crew’s quarters. Men were smoking, playing cards and snoozing in their hammocks, which swung sympathetically with each roll of the ship. The sailors ignored the boys, who carried on down another two levels to the holds, in the lowest part of the ship. In this dank, dark gloomy place were the boxes and trunks with the possessions of the passengers on board. At a further level below, food stored in casks and barrels completely filled a room. A safety candle-lamp gave little, but sufficient, light. It was a fetid area, with stale, filthy sloshing water and a myriad of small eyes glinted in the candle light, Harry ignored them and Matthew did too, both had lived their whole lives with the vermin.
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