Letty nodded.
‘Hop off then, and we’ll take it aboard,’ he said.
Letty looked up and down the jetty. Where were Papa and Lavinia? The sailors stood with their thumbs hooked into the rope that tied up their trousers.
‘Please, not yet,’ she said.
‘Now or never, miss.’ The younger one wasn’t much more than a boy, maybe fourteen, like Letty’s older brother had been when he went away to work. He had gingery hair and freckles all over his hands. His elbows poked out of holes in his shirt.
Letty didn’t know what to say. She was afraid that if she stopped the chest going to Australia, Lavinia and Papa would both be angry with her. She got off the lid.
The sailors lifted the chest onto their shoulders. Letty searched the dock and the shore with her eyes. She thought she could see Lavinia’s pink dress, but it was too far away.
The sailors went up the gangplank, onto the ship. What should she do? She felt as if her boots were glued to the dock.
‘Be a good child and stay right by that chest,’ Papa had said. That was what she should do. Letty dashed after it. She dodged under the arm of a man with a list and scurried onto the gangplank. The plank felt as if it was disappearing under her. Letty grabbed at the rope.
‘Easy does it,’ said the young sailor, gripping her arm with his freckly fingers.
‘Oh!’ Letty moved away from the sailor’s hand. She tried to stand with her feet neatly together, like a little lady, as Stepmama had taught them. But the ship’s deck felt crooked and she buckled at the knees.
‘Where is the chest?’ she asked.
The sailor pointed to the middle of the deck. ‘Goin’ in the hatch.’
She saw passengers’ boxes being lowered on ropes, down a square hole. ‘I have to go with it,’ she told him.
‘That you cannot, miss,’ he said sternly. ‘You-er not luggage. You stay put on deck.’
‘Hands to the anchor line!’ someone shouted.
The ginger-haired boy disappeared.
Letty did as she was told. She sat as close to the hatch as she dared and watched the gangplank. A stream of passengers climbed on board. But none of them were Lavinia or Papa. Letty waited a long time. She began to worry that something had happened to them.
Letty decided she had to move. All the luggage had gone down the hatch. The passengers were leaning over the ship’s railing, calling and waving to people on the jetty. She couldn’t see past them. She pushed into the crowd along the rails. A tall woman blocked her way.
‘Excuse me. I have to find my family,’ Letty said.
Letty ducked beneath the woman’s elbow. Through a gap in the railing, she saw Papa standing on the jetty, by himself. Then she saw that the gangplank was being pulled in. The ship was getting ready to sail, Letty realised. And she was still on it!
Meet Poppy, a Gold Rush girl living in 1864. Here’s the first chapter of her story, and you can read more about it here.
‘POPPEEE!’ came Mother Hangtree’s voice from below. ‘You are to come down immediately. Do you hear?’
‘Not unless you let my brother out of the Darkling Cellar,’ Poppy replied.
The matron paced backwards and forwards under the tree.
Through the leaves Poppy could see the schoolroom below and hear the children practising the chorus of The Bellbird Song. Their clear voices sounded like the wind rustling through the eucalypt forest at night.
Mother Hangtree spoke again. ‘All right,’ she said crossly. ‘I will let Augustus out. But you make him promise never to run away again. He is a bad influence on the other children.’
Poppy smiled. ‘I will, Mother. I’ll tell Gus.’ Then she scampered down from branch to branch as nimble as a brushtail possum.
‘Do be careful, Poppy,’ Mother Hangtree said, anxiously stretching out her arms. ‘I need you in one piece for the concert.’
‘Stand clear!’ Poppy yelled and jumped to the ground.
Mother Hangtree brushed leaves and dirt from Poppy’s pinafore. ‘Goodness me, where are your shoes and stockings, child?’
‘You can’t climb trees in shoes,’ Poppy said.
Even on the hottest days, when the hens lay panting under the bushes and the cows kicked refusing to be milked, Mother Hangtree made the children wear lace-up shoes and stockings. ‘It is not proper, running around like little savages,’ she would say, making a sour face.
She untangled a piece of bark from Poppy’s hair and sighed. ‘Go quickly now. The children are all waiting.’
Poppy picked up her shoes and stockings from behind the tree and skipped to the schoolroom. When Blossom saw her she rushed up and grabbed her best friend’s hand. The other orphans gathered around, full of questions.
‘Is Mother letting Gus out of the Darling Cellar?’ Daisy, the smallest, asked.
‘It’s the Darkling Cellar, not the Darling Cellar, Daisy,’ Bartholomew laughed.
Daisy looked hurt.
‘You should have seen her,’ said Poppy, grinning. ‘She was so mad her face puffed up like a bullfrog and turned bright purple.’
The children roared with laughter, then quickly turned silent when Mother Hangtree entered the room with Gus following behind.
He looks tired, Poppy thought.
Gus was tall and slender with a mass of thick, dark brown hair. At fourteen, he was the oldest child in the orphanage. Everyone looked up to Gus, especially Poppy.
He flicked a lock of hair out of his eyes and winked at her as he took his place in the back row of the schoolroom. Poppy couldn’t wait to talk to him.
‘Come along, children. Don’t stand around gawking at Augustus. Let us continue our rehearsal,’ the Matron said sternly.
The annual concert was very important to Mother Hangtree. This was the day government and church people from Echuca were invited to Bird Creek Mission to hear the children sing. But Gus said the real reason they came was to see if Mother Hangtree was doing her job properly. These people gave her money to run the orphanage. Still, it was an exciting day for everyone – hardly anyone visited Bird Creek, except the bullockies who dropped off supplies of flour, sugar, tea and other necessities.
Mother Hangtree tapped her stick on the floorboards and sat down at the harmonium. ‘Ready, Poppy?’
Poppy nodded.
Mother Hangtree played the introduction to ‘The Bellbird Song’ and Poppy began to sing.
After the rehearsal the children marched off to lunch. The kitchen where they ate their meals was attached to the dormitories. There was a long wooden table with benches on either side, and a big stove. Alice, the cook, had made a pot of soup with vegetables from the garden and loaves of crusty bread.
‘Did the strapping hurt?’ Bartholomew asked Gus as he sat down. Bartholomew was often in trouble, too, for wandering into the bush in search of wild animals. He loved all creatures and would save even a tiny ant if he could.
Gus shook his head. From the look on his face, though, Poppy could tell he was acting brave.
‘Next time I run away, I’m gonna make it out of here,’ he whispered to her.
‘But Mother Hangtree said she’s going to lock all the doors and windows at night so nobody can escape ever again.’ Poppy glanced across at the matron sitting at the head of the table.
Gus leaned towards her. ‘That won’t stop me. I found a secret door, Kalinya.’
Kalinya was Poppy’s Aboriginal name. It meant ‘pretty one’. Gus’s name was Moyhu, which meant ‘the wind’. When each child was brought to Bird Creek Mission they were given an English name. The girls were named after flowers; the boys were given names from the Bible. What Mother Hangtree didn’t know was that sometimes Poppy and Gus still used their Aboriginal names even though it was strictly forbidden.
‘A secret door! Where?’
‘In the Darkling Cellar. I’d never seen it there before because it’s hidden behind some old sacks. I was moving them around so I could lie down. That’s when I saw light coming in
through a crack.’ Gus noticed Mother Hangtree glaring at them. He put his head down. ‘Tell you more later,’ he whispered.
After lunch, the children marched back to the schoolroom. The lesson was arithmetic, and while Mother Hangtree wrote numbers on the blackboard Poppy looked at Gus in the back row. He was scribbling something on his slate, which he handed to Bartholomew, who handed it to Blossom, who then passed it to Poppy.
When Mother Hangtree turned to face the class, Poppy quickly hid the slate on her lap under the desk.
The message was in secret code, a code Gus and Poppy had made up themselves.
Po3 Po1 D2 Ka6 D2 Pl4 Pa6 Ka6 E1 E1
Poppy was proud of her idea to use the names of animals. It had taken weeks to learn the list off by heart:
Echidna
Dingo
Possum
Wallaby
Kangaroo
Platypus
Weevil
Emu
Quoll
Wombat
Crow
Parrot
Galah
Koala
Lizard
Frog
Poppy smiled as she deciphered the message.
Po3, third letter in Possum ‘S’
Po1, first letter in Possum ‘P’
D2, second letter in Dingo ‘I’
Ka6, sixth letter in Kangaroo ‘R’
D2, second letter in Dingo ‘I’
Pl4, fourth letter in Platypus ‘T’
Pa6, sixth letter in Parrot ‘T’
Ka6, sixth letter in Kangaroo ‘R’
E1, first letter in Echidna ‘E’
E1, first letter in Echidna ‘E’
Meet Rose, a tomboy living at the time of Federation in 1900. Here’s the first chapter of her story, and you can read more about it here.
WHEN Rose heard the soft tap on her bedroom door, she joined her brother, Edward, in the dark corridor. Apart from the distant sound of Father snoring and a few birds in the trees outside, all was quiet. Edward was carrying his cricket bat and ball, and he grinned at her, his teeth white in the gloom.
They crept down the wide staircase, past the tall stained-glass windows above the landing and out the front door, closing it behind them with a click. Dawn painted the sky a pale pink and dew coated the lawns.
‘Happy birthday,’ Edward whispered. ‘You want to bowl first?’
‘Of course!’ Rose said.
They avoided the crunchy gravel on the driveway and ran around to the back of their huge house, past the stables and down to the farthest corner, where Edward had set up his wickets. He’d promised to play cricket with Rose on her birthday, and this was the only chance they’d have before Mother would wake up and come looking for her.
Edward poked at the grass with his bat. ‘It must’ve rained last night.’
Rose laughed as she warmed up her bowling arm, swinging it around and up. ‘Not making excuses already, are you Ed?’
‘Just bowl,’ Edward said.
The ball floated through the air, bounced, and Edward swung at it, clipping it on the edge. It disappeared into the bushes behind him. Rose grinned. She loved bowling her tricky spinners, and even though Edward was older and taller than her, she’d soon get him out and then she could have a turn.
They’d had one bat each when a shrill voice called, ‘Rose! Are you out here? Rose?’ It was her governess, Miss Parson.
Rose wanted to run and hide in the bushes, but that would only get her into more trouble. She handed the cricket ball to Edward. ‘I’d better go before she busts a boiler.’
Miss Parson was waiting near the kitchen door, a scowl on her narrow, pale face. ‘What were you doing out so early?’ she asked.
‘Walking,’ Rose said. She wasn’t in the habit of telling fibs, but surely a small lie to Miss Parson didn’t count. ‘It’s a lovely morning.’
‘Hmph.’ Miss Parson followed her inside and up the stairs. ‘Your mother expects you down for breakfast in five minutes, and your boots are dirty.’
‘Yes, Miss Parson.’
In her bedroom, Rose poured cold water from the flowered jug into the bowl and washed her hands and face, shivering at how icy it was. She used the hand towel to clean her boots, and brushed her dark, unruly hair. There. Surely Mother wouldn’t scold her on her birthday? Miss Parson came in without knocking and Rose glared.
‘Come on, hurry up,’ said Miss Parson. ‘And pull up your stockings. They’re a disgrace.’
Rose yanked them up and heard an awful ripping sound. She looked down at the large hole she’d just made. ‘Oops.’
Miss Parson huffed loudly. ‘Too much haste, not enough care – as usual.’
‘But Sally will mend it in an instant!’
‘And what will you learn from that?’ Miss Parson asked. ‘No, you can sew it yourself today instead of working on your doily stitching. Or I can tell your mother and let her give you a suitable punishment.’
Sewing was already like a punishment for Rose. She’d much rather be outside, climbing trees or digging in the garden. ‘I’ll do it myself,’ she said. Miss Parson followed her down the stairs and went off to the kitchen, while Rose continued on to the breakfast room, where she spotted a small pile of gifts by her plate. There was no way she’d let Miss Parson ruin her birthday, especially with all those surprises waiting!
The rest of her family was already seated, her father reading the newspaper, The Argus.
‘Happy birthday, Rose!’ everyone chorused.
‘Open your presents,’ Martha said. Rose’s older sister always gave her something small and special.
Mother tapped her plate with a spoon. ‘Eat your breakfast first, Rose. The gifts can wait.’
‘But . . .’ Rose shrugged. It was useless to argue with Mother. Rose took her plate to the sideboard impatiently, ready to choose some eggs and bacon, but there were only kippers and porridge. She hated kippers – even more than sardines – Mother knew that! Tears stung her eyes, but she bit her lip, determined not to cry. She helped herself to porridge instead, and stirred in four big spoonfuls of sugar and some preserved peaches before Mother noticed.
Rose ate quickly and was finally allowed to open her presents. She decided to leave Martha’s until last. Mother and Father gave her gloves and a parasol. Edward’s was shaped like a book, which was what she really wanted, but it turned out to be a box of glâcé cherries. She glanced at him and he mouthed, ‘Sorry.’ That meant Mother had bought the cherries and put his name on the card. Rose put all her hopes into the last gift, the smallest one.
She pulled the paper off and opened the little box. Nestled inside was a tiny gold oval locket engraved with birds. ‘It’s beautiful,’ Rose said. ‘Thank you.’ She jumped up and gave Martha a hug and a kiss, breathing in her perfume.
Martha laughed and smoothed Rose’s hair with her soft hands. She was always dressed so perfectly, her pretty face framed by her swept-up dark hair.
‘What about everyone else?’ Mother said, tilting her head so Rose could kiss her cheek.
‘Eleven now, eh, Rose?’ Father said. ‘You’ll be married before we know it.’ He winked and Rose laughed. Father already knew that Rose planned to become an explorer and travel the world instead of getting married.
When Rose kissed Edward, he whispered, ‘Here’s your real present,’ and shoved his cricket ball into her hand. Luckily, Mother was already on her way out of the breakfast room and didn’t see.
‘Holy smoke!’ Rose said. ‘Are you sure?’
Edward nodded. ‘Have a nice birthday. Are you still going to the park?’
‘I hope so.’ Mother hadn’t actually promised when Rose had asked, but she hadn’t said no either.
Until then, though, it was lessons as usual with Miss Parson, which meant an hour of reading from a storybook Rose nearly knew by heart and then mending her ripped stocking. She made such a mess of the stitches that Miss Parson had to give it to Sally, the housemaid, after all. Rose desperately wish
ed Miss Parson could teach more than needlework and French verbs. Rose wanted to learn geography and history, like Edward, and study insects and fossils. However, she could just imagine Miss Parson turning her nose up at a dinosaur bone!
At lunch, Mother said, ‘Now, I expect you to be ready by three o’clock.’
‘Isn’t that a little late for the park?’ Rose said.
‘We’re not going out,’ Mother said. ‘Your grandmother and Uncle Charles and Aunt Philippa are coming for afternoon tea.’
‘But what about the park?’
‘Don’t be silly, Rose,’ Mother said. ‘They are visiting for your birthday. You should be grateful. No doubt they will bring gifts.’
Hot anger rushed through Rose and she clenched her hands. ‘I don’t care! I’ve been looking forward to the park all day!’
‘Fetch Miss Parson,’ Mother snapped to Sally.
Rose waited in silence, face burning, as Miss Parson rushed in. ‘Yes, Madam,’ she said.
‘Please ensure Rose has on her best afternoon dress to receive visitors,’ Mother said frostily. ‘And remind her of the manners required for taking tea and conversing pleasantly.’
‘Yes, Madam.’
Miss Parson scowled at Rose and towed her up the stairs.
‘I don’t have an afternoon dress,’ Rose said, wanting to be as difficult as possible. What was the point of having a birthday when she was not allowed to go to the park and explore the stream and climb hills and play cricket?
Miss Parson opened the wardrobe and selected Rose’s least favourite dress, one made of white lace and frills with a hundred tiny buttons down the back and on the long sleeves. It took forever to put on, and Rose usually spilt something on it within five minutes.
‘This will do fine,’ Miss Parson said.
Rose groaned, but with Miss Parson’s help she put on the white dress and waited as the governess began buttoning the back.
‘Stop pushing your shoulders forward,’ Miss Parson said.
‘I’m not!’
‘Pull in your stomach then.’
Rose tried, but she could tell something was wrong. Miss Parson kept pulling and eventually she finished the buttoning, but Rose could hardly breathe.
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