Her husband’s will was contested by his selfish and powerful family and she was left with barely enough to survive. She did part-time teaching at the local school and took in sewing and alterations, for she had always been nimble with her fingers, an art lost or unknown to many of her upper-class school-friends.
Then one day she came across a box of papers that was to change her life. Her husband had won a parcel of land in a card game when in New Zealand. They had laughed about it, but there were the deeds and she was the sole rightful heir. Her incentive was strong.
She was still very attractive, even beautiful, but no young man would look at a widow with a child. Her life in the small city house held far too many sad memories anyway and very little promise. So on impulse, she called an agent and the house was put on the market. Having decided to go to New Zealand, she booked a passage on board the ship ‘Nell Gwynn,’ out of London.
Though going steerage was not going to be comfortable, she reasoned to herself that it could not be too bad. It would only be for a brief period of their lives, whilst the money saved on a cabin could be put to better use. She visualised that the passage of a number of months would be desperately dull for the most part. Perhaps the keeping of a diary of what passed on board, the daily progress of the ship, and anything else worth narrating, would be a worthwhile way of spending time. She resolved to daily write in ink, in a journal.
They left from the quayside at Tilbury Docks on the 10th August, 1839 on the ‘Nell Gwynn’, in the light of the setting sun. She vainly hoped her family, or even that of her late husband might have come to bid their adieus, but not a soul was there to see them off. It was a very sad experience, and with great difficulty she stopped a flood of tears as the lines cast off and the streamers parted.
The Captain had given orders that they were sailing at 17.00 hours, or 5 pm, and he certainly meant it, for not a moment later than the time, the gangplanks were raised, cutting off all protestation. It amazed her to see that many of the passengers were left behind, but the Captain was unmoved by the cries of distress. Most decidedly he was putting his stamp of authority on his charges from the very beginning. They had scarcely recovered from the bustle caused by casting off, when there was a call to eat, which did somewhat assay the sad reflections created by the departure.
Down in the steerage hold, they all made busy preparing for the night’s rest. The beds were very awkward; they were placed athwartships - that is, they had to lie with their head or feet to the ship’s side. There were two ranges on each side, one above the other; her bunk was on the lower range. She couldn’t sit up between it and the one above, so it required a kind of acrobatic sliding motion to get in. Between each bed was one thin board only, so that when all were in bed, the berths looked like an enormous nursery stretching the whole length of the ship. Divisions were made between the married and single passengers and single men and women were kept apart. Stretching away from the light of the hatch, the back of the hold was in darkness, bar the flickering from a wick safety lantern.
Dinner was served, with the cabin class passengers eating first and then the food for steerage taken below. When it arrived, there was such a crush, it reminded her of a theatre door on a Saturday night; everyone pushing to be first served. It consisted of preserved soup and was passably good. There was another surprise, when those left on the dock actually made it aboard by lighter. They were only fed the leftover cold soup, but were nonetheless very pleased to be on board. The ship was now full.
Back at the dock, sulphur had been burned in a vain attempt to kill off some of the smells and insects that inhabited the accommodation area. Sadly, this ship had already been through too many voyages, all of which had left odorous memories of past experiences. Somehow these memories seemed to be impregnated into the very timbers. The passengers were about to learn they had to live with them, night and day.
It seemed to Jessica and the others, that the tales they had heard of the conditions on these ships must have been rather exaggerated. They quickly found that things were as bad, if not much, much worse. The air from the first day was foul with the smell of human vomit, urine and body odour. Rats and cockroaches were to be seen brazenly roaming the ship. They slept with a space barely two feet wide allocated to each person, and would spend the next four months living out of the trunks on the floor under the bottom bunk.
Those closest to the hatch got the freshest air and Jessica had been reasonably lucky here, but they would also shiver in the cold, were often wetted by rain and some seas and would sweat near to die when passing through the tropics.
Their ablutions were into a bucket, with little privacy, or a trip to the ‘Head’ at the bow of the boat. This experience alone could often involve an entire ducking by cold, clammy salt water waves. Body washing was in dirty cold water from a barrel that was lashed to the mast that ran down through their hold. They were told washing clothes was not possible till two weeks out, when the weather was warm and settled.
The first days on the ‘Nell Gwynn’ were the most awful in Jessica’s whole life. She would now have gladly paid twice the going rate for a cabin, but these were all accounted for, so Jessica and her son bore their discomforts with the others, sharing the misery. Douglas required constant attention, and conditions were little short of horrific. In the middle of the first storm, one man leapt overboard, his madness uncontrolled. No one was able to stop him when he suddenly rose screaming from his allotted bunk, dashed up the companionway and threw himself over the side. Everyone was shocked, yet many privately wondered if others might join him before this terrible voyage was over.
On the fifth day the storm had passed. A lot of the passengers made their way up on deck, many to see their first real view of the ocean. It was enough for some to turn green and vomit again, but most enjoyed the fresh air. As they turned their faces to the sky, it became apparent that something was going on, way above their heads. The Captain cuffed a small boy and ordered a burly blond sailor into the rigging.
The sailor climbed effortlessly; Jessica admired his grace, agility and confidence as he scaled the heights. A small figure was at the very top crow’s nest, his tiny face just visible. The blond man and boy spoke at some length and she presumed he was persuading the boy to leave his perch. By now a large number of people were watching as the two began the long climb down. She held her breath, wondering what could have induced a boy to do such a thing then remembered, with a private smile that Douglas had gone to the top of an oak tree at age eight, and the fire truck had to rescue him. As the boy got closer, there seemed something familiar in the small shape, but it wasn’t till he turned to jump, that she knew the face.
“Matthew?” she cried out. “Is that you?”
He hesitated, his eyes searching for the call, but was already committed to the jump. When his foot crumpled under him, she pushed forward and was first to his side. By then he had already screamed and passed out. She arranged for him to be taken to the sick bay and helped the First Mate, who was also the ship’s physician, with the laudanum, a tincture of opium that would keep the boy quiet while the foot was reset. She sat with him for an hour, till the effects of the drug wore off, and he stirred.
He opened his eyes, first in pain, then widely in surprise, a smile crossing his small face.
“I knew I would find you, Miss Jessica,” he said.
Jessica was more than puzzled.
“How did you know we were here, and why were you looking for me?” she questioned.
“Oh, Miss Jessica, I am so pleased to see you,” he said again and on being pressed, told her the whole story, well, most of it anyway. He managed to tell Jessica that his mother had died in a terrible fire and rather than being a street urchin he had come looking for her. On an impulse, he told her about his fear of the Captain and his use of small boys, and she went white with horror. She gave him another small amount of opium for the pain. As his eyes closed, she sat by his bed, stroking the dark hair on his handsome young face.
Young Matthew Hooper, who delivered shoes occasionally from the cobbler’s shop, had always been a delightful boy. He would eat pieces of cake as if he had never seen it before in his life, and he seemed to have manners quite uncommon for a lad of his age and breeding. Now, from out of nowhere, he had almost literally fallen into her arms, a small event that was to change their lives forever. After hearing his story, she resolved to help him.
“He’s just a baby, the poor wee mite! Lord knows someone will have to look after him,” she said to herself. Fifteen minutes later, she had weighed up all the options and knew there was no choice. She gathered herself up and sought out the Captain, who was standing by the helm.
“Good morning, Captain,” she said.
“And to you, madam,” he replied, in a slightly effeminate manner, which before this turn of events, she had considered rakishly charming. Now it just filled her with loathing, although she managed to keep her smile.
“How would the boy be, then?”
“I believe we have some very good news, Captain. That young stowaway is Matthew Hooper, my nephew on my sister’s side and I had no idea that he was on board. He has just told me that he stowed away to be with me on a great adventure, a matter to which no one of his family were privy. While I can understand that this must be a relief to you, of course it will be somewhat of a burden to me, especially as I have my child with me already.”
The Captain would never have made a good card player. Across his face flickered a succession of thoughts: anger, gain, loss, he recovered his composure as quickly as he could.
“Mmm… You see, madam, there are some rather delicate matters raised here. There is the matter of his unpaid fare, the food he will eat, where he will sleep and more.” She had the wit, and was ready with her answers.
“I am but a widow of modest means, but I will pay his passage.” She was good at negotiating. “And may I offer his services, perhaps in return for a small retainer, as kitchen hand for the remainder of the trip? This might teach him a lesson and curb his youthful ways. Oh, his parents must be so distraught!” She fluttered her long eyelashes and dabbed the corner of her eye with a handkerchief.
“I was about to make him my cabin boy, as it’s crowded where he is,” said the Captain. A flush of anger rose to Jessica’s cheeks, but she recovered quickly and replied, “Sir, do not worry, there is enough room on our mattress for him.”
The Captain was clearly nonplussed, but knew he dare not argue. If she suspected and reported his predilection for young boys, he would be ruined. They negotiated back and forth briefly, but he was no match.
It was agreed that she would pay four pounds for the passage; Matthew would eat and work at the galley, but he would not receive any dues as punishment for stowing away.
“Go tell him also there are three lashes for anyone going aloft without permission from now on.”
She hurried back to the sick bay but as Matthew was asleep again, it wasn’t until evening that he was coherent enough to be told the news. When he finally awoke and heard what Miss Jessica had arranged he was obviously overjoyed but was so in awe of this angel of a lady who was to be his saviour that he was left speechless.
Chapter Five
Jessica’s Diary August 11th
Dear Diary,
11th August 1839
Finally we were away on our new adventure, our new change of fortune and the promise of our new country.
There are unknown fears and beauty and wonder, all ahead of us and I am very excited. From the first moment I made my decision, I have been certain that it is the right one. On the day we left, our good ship the ‘Nell Gwynn,’ had anchored in the stream and the chain was hove short early in the morning. We had a full hour of the crew singing shanties and rotating around the capstan. I thought this experience, watching the men working together, absolutely fascinating. Then about midday the Health Inspector came; his work was a mere formality, he barely glanced at any of us.
We must all be in wondrous health for as we filed past him he ticked off our names on a sheet. He accepted even a man with an awful hacking cough. He must be either a wonderful doctor, or completely inept and uncaring, to allow some of these passengers to remain. Later we learned that he is paid for the number of healthy people he permits on board, though there is a deduction for any deaths. After he had finished his inspection, he joined the pilot and left the ship .The crew raised the anchor up all the way and we were towed out to sea. The ship was finally under way and sailed down the channel uneventfully, though I and many others woke in the middle of the night to quite a ruckus on deck.
Apparently there was a dispute between the First Mate and the man on look out, as we had nearly run into a fishing smack. There were two of these vessels laying together, the lookout thought that we could go between them and the First Mate thought there was not enough room. The First Mate is a very big young man - I would not like to argue with him.
In altering course to clear them, the sails were taken aback, with the sails banging and crashing fearfully. There was much shouting in choice, salty language, and running of feet, before we were under way again.
Soon enough we were going under full sail down the English Channel, with a strong wind that made the boat roll from rail to rail. I would have liked to be watching the waves, which does excite me, but most of my time was spent below tending Douglas. The poor boy is suffering sea sickness on top of his other troubles. We passed the famous Needles on the Isle of Wight, then on 15th we left the Lizard Point behind us and that was the last we saw of dear old England.
I noticed many others were gazing rather wistfully as the last sight of our homeland disappeared astern. Would we never pass this way again? The thought fleetingly passed across my mind, but I am firm in the idea of making a new and better life for myself and my child.
As soon as we were into the Bay of Biscay and the Atlantic Ocean, we struck very heavy weather. The wooden boat leaks everywhere, including into all the straw mattresses. All around me the noise of the children screaming, the grownups being sick, and the families squabbling makes an almost unbearable scenario. I lay wretchedly in my bunk all night with my hands over my ears, for what seemed like a life time.
Everyone now seems to doubt the wisdom of their decision to undertake this voyage; indeed, it was so bad that if it weren’t for the children, I might have been tempted to end it all by jumping overboard. Then when a man suddenly did just that - he leapt up and committed suicide by drowning - the shock of it made us all think, soberly. Others talked about doing the same and I was sure some were serious. However, the spirit of mankind is strong. With some humour, we were able to dissuade those who might have really been contemplating such an awful final move.
Early evening, after a dinner that scarce few ate, I could take the smell and the cacophony no longer and went up the hatch ladder steps. I wrapped my topcoat around myself and spent two wonderful hours sitting in the shelter of the forecastle, watching the spectacle of the raging sea. Up there on topsides, mostly alone, a shiver went through me. I was very aware of the sheer power of the waves surrounding us and the smallness of the vessel. The wind increased and it was imprudent to linger longer, as waves were beginning to threaten my position.
The spray alone had dampened my clothing and wet my hair enough to drive me back down into the hell hole.
Towards midnight the near gale increased to a full gale. The confusion and noise were fearful, while the hoarse cries of the sailors, coupled with the sudden shocks and trembling of the hull, were very unnerving. Thundering seas struck the boat or dashed over the bows, while below decks, sea-chests were sliding dangerously across the flooring between the beds and tables. Water was pouring through hatches and leaks in the deck. We could hear casks of food and water in the hold below us that had come loose, now crashing and booming from one side to the other, as the ship rolled on the wild seas.
The rolling increased during the night. In the safety of my bunk, I was sometimes standing nearly u
pright in bed, then, as the ship rolled over to the opposite side, I was nearly standing on my head. Sleep was impossible. It took till near dawn before the wind moderated.
16th August
Today - there was nothing more than a pleasant warm morning; the ship was sailing beautifully across the ocean. I marvel that, but for a few broken casks and trunks and the dunnage strewn on deck, no one would think we had such a terrible blow. We all attempted to straighten out our belongings, laughing with each other as we exchanged back clothing and other assorted items that had visited our neighbours during the gale.
A most interesting day, young Matthew Hooper from London literally fell out of the rigging today. He is a stowaway running away from home. He broke his ankle as he fell and I helped the First Mate get him to the sick bay. Matthew told me about his situation and the depravations of the captain and I made a vow to help him. Now, thanks to our supposed family connection and my intervention, the Captain has kindly made available a cabin. Well, it really is an unused storeroom on the starboard side, but is at a cost I can just spare. It is very small and cramped, but there is just room for the two of us and Matthew will stay where he is, sleeping and working.
I bless the fortuitous events that brought Matthew into our lives, especially now we have been offered the cabin. I had truly begun to think I was to be driven mad by the noise and confusion down below. As I mentioned before, one man did jump overboard; and another was only just restrained from jumping and was put into the brig, where he eventually calmed down. He declared the brig even better than the hell hole below and claimed he would be happy to stay there the whole trip. Quietly I couldn’t help but agree with him.
Chapter Six
Matthew Recovers
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