Pease porridge and rice for supper. The Surgeon did not arrive until well after sunset. He looked so weary, with barely enough energy to light his pipe, that I felt very sorry for him. He tells me that shortly we must all move back to Sydney Cove, for he is needed there to help the sick. I pray that this will not happen too soon.
‘Of course, Lizzie, you will come with us,’ he said. But as that means I must leave Sarah behind, I am in two minds over this, even though I would dearly like to see what is happening in Sydney Cove.
Tuesday 11th May
This morning Emily had a little more colour in her cheeks. I am sure that it is the wild herbs I force her to eat though she always groans and complains that they are far too bitter.
She finished her lessons and demanded a reward. I clapped my hands and sang her a rhyme Mama sang to you, Edward:
Intery, mintery, cuttery corn,
Brambly briar and brambly thorn,
Wire, briar, barrel, lock,
Three geese in a flock.
One flew east and one flew west,
And one flew over the cuckoo’s nest.
When we got to the end, I tickled Emily’s ribs like Mama did ours. Emily laughed so much I sang and sang until I could not manage another croak. Edward, I think that in some ways Emily has replaced you in my mind. Not that I love you any the less. You are still my closest living relative. But you are so far away, who knows if we shall ever see each other again? All I can hope is that this journal will sooner or later arrive in Cranham. And then you will know that I have never forgotten you.
Winston arrived shortly before supper carrying four pink and grey cockatoos. We are hungry enough to eat anything that walks, crawls or flies, but it pained me to see those pretty birds so dead and bedraggled. Winston started to tell me how he had trapped them and wrung their necks. I shuddered and told him that I had rather not know.
‘It won’t stop you eating them, will it?’ he snapped at me impatiently.
We would have quarrelled then and there, only he picked up the birds and stalked off. When he returned, I saw that he had cut off their heads and gutted them.
I dipped the carcasses in boiling water, plucked their feathers and skewered them on sticks. Now I could pretend that they were only chickens. But I was still very cross. I told myself that Winston might think he is all grown because he is a member of the Royal Marines. But he is just a teasing boy. If I once thought we might be friends, then I was sorely mistaken.
When his papa arrived home we cooked the birds over the fire and ate them with a little pease pudding. The taste reminded us of wild fowl, though it was a little more gamey.
Supper over, Emily reminded her papa that she wished to hear more of my story.
The Surgeon lit his pipe and drew on it. ‘We have quite a Scheherazade in Lizzie,’ he told his children. ‘Perchance there are things she might not want to relate.’
‘Not true, sir,’ I cried hotly. ‘God knows I have nothing to hide.’
‘Except for a bad temper,’ Winston murmured.
I was about to answer that I am only bad-tempered when sorely provoked. Just in time I bit my tongue. Edward, our mama always said that I let it run away with me. I must remind myself that I am only a servant, a girl and a convict. They can dismiss me whenever they please. But it is hard to stay silent when others are being stupid or insensitive. Thankfully Emily cried, ‘Who is Scheherazade?’
The Surgeon reached out to stroke his daughter’s arm. ‘Why, she was a beautiful lady who must tell a thousand and one stories so as not to lose her head.’
Emily giggled and slid her thumb into her mouth. She does not always take her papa and brother as seriously as I must.
The Surgeon turned to me, ‘On with your story, Scheherazade,’ he said mock-sternly, ‘or we will be too sleepy to listen.’
I had almost forgotten where I had left off, but Winston quickly reminded me.
I took my sewing closer to the fire. Then I started on how Nance, the other apprentice, had been fifteen and grown. And how I could not help noticing that she and Silas, who was our manservant, spent much time whispering in corners when they thought no-one saw them. My Mistress had already told us how several small things had gone missing: a gold ribbon, two bobbins of thread, and a small pair of scissors. When she discovered that a silken gown and matching bonnet—these made for a fine lady—were also missing, she set up such a cry, one might have thought everything she owned had been stolen.
She brought Silas, Nance and myself into her workroom to question us. We insisted that we knew nothing about it. My Mistress fixed us with a glare that could kill a grown man. ‘Goods worth over seven shillings,’ she cried. ‘If any of you have taken them, why I will have you in gaol before you can count to ten.’
She combed through the attic where Nance and I slept. I had tied the six shillings I had brought with me into a kerchief and hidden this in my wooden box. I had hoped that while I was in London I might earn a guinea or two. Then my plan was to return to Cranham and use the money to keep Edward and myself in modest comfort.
Immediately my Mistress found this money, she decided that it was hers, and that I had stolen it. No matter how much I protested my innocence, she called the Runners, and they marched me off to gaol.
Here Winston cut in. ‘Did you not say the money was yours?’
Tears rolled down my cheeks. ‘I did. But I was nine years old and an apprentice. Who would believe me?’
‘D–Did you know who had really stolen those clothes?’
‘I am sure that Silas and Nance plotted it together. They must have stolen those other things too. Shortly after I went to prison they left my Mistress’s house to open a tavern. Where else would they have found the money to do that?’
What I did not say was how in the beginning I could hardly believe that this was really happening, that it was not all a terrible dream from which I would shortly wake. I found myself behind bolted doors. The turnkeys punished me most severely for having no money. But I had lost everything that was most precious to me and I had done nothing wrong. Nothing.
‘Tell my children more about the gaol,’ said the Surgeon. ‘These are places to inspire dread even in the most hardened criminal.’
I shuddered and went on to say that whatever they had heard about those places cannot equal their true horror. I was thrown into a cell with the most evil criminals. My few things were quickly stolen, and I think I was lucky not to be strangled or stabbed.
The law stated that I must be tried by a judge before three days were up. It was December and the middle of winter. Those on trial had to wait their turn in an open courtyard. This yard was so cold the puddles froze under our feet. An icy wind cut through the few rags we wore. When they brought me into Justice Hall, the first thing I saw was how both judge and jury carried nosegays of fresh herbs. These were to protect them from the stench coming from us prisoners.
Here my Master broke in to explain how the herbs were also used as a protection against prison fever or typhus, a most deadly disease. He turned to me to say, ‘You were fortunate not to catch it.’
Winston yawned as if weary. But I knew he wanted to hear more, because he stammered, ‘W–Was anyone allowed into the Court to watch your case?’
I laughed wryly. ‘Why, it was better than a Punch and Judy show. The court was filled with people who made fun of everything. They called out, making judgements that had nothing to do with the guilt or innocence of the accused.’
‘What did the judge want to know?’
‘My name, and how old I was, and my occupation. And then if I was guilty of this crime. I answered him as truthfully as I knew how. Then he called my Mistress onto the stand. She gave them such a pack of lies. She said that I had always been lazy and that I could never be trusted. Of course the judge only listened to her. My fate was sealed in less than fifteen minutes.’
‘Did you not protest?’
‘I did, but it did me no good whatsoever …’
I rose from my stool and he helped me arrange our pallets on the floor. The nights are growing cold. I wished I had a warm quilt to lay over Emily. Her papa guessed my thoughts and covered her with his coat. She stirred but did not wake. She needs a lot of sleep. I notice that the Surgeon’s coat is torn in three places. But I have no dark thread with which to fix it. Perchance Sarah will have some.
There is just enough firelight to finish this off.
Wednesday 12th May
All morning, Emily pleaded with me to patch Mary, her cloth doll. The poor thing has lost an arm and a leg and every seam has split. I promised her that I would. Then added, ‘But first you must practise your letters.’
In the dust outside our hut, we wrote ‘The Lord is my shepherd.’
Once she had printed this, I tried a rhyme my old teacher, Doctor Nelson, had shown me:
Knock on the door,
Peep in,
Lift up the latch,
Walk in.
Emily copied this almost perfectly, though she still gets her D’s mixed up with her B’s and wrote ‘boor’ instead of ‘door’.
I had intended to spend the rest of the morning dusting and sweeping, but Emily pleaded with me to take her to Sarah’s. Seems that Sarah has promised Emily a sweet biscuit. I cannot imagine that a single grain of sugar is to be found anywhere in Rose Hill.
After her lessons, Emily was so tired, I piggybacked her most of the way to Master Dodd’s hut. Though she is small for her age and her arms and legs are like sticks, lately my shoulders hurt whenever I carry her.
I am always fearful when walking this track. Just when we had passed the convict huts, she let out a scream.
My heart leapt into my mouth.
Emily pointed towards a clump of straggly gum trees. Someone was hiding behind them.
When I saw who it was, I sighed in relief. ‘Simple Sam will not harm you,’ I assured her. ‘He only wants to play with us.’
Sam emerged from the bushes, his face so dirty and covered in scabs, his own mother would not recognise him. Poor Sam cannot control his limbs, and he twitches and dribbles like a baby. Since he approached Emily that day by the river, my Master thinks that he is dangerous. He tells me that he intends asking Master Dodd to send Sam back to Sydney Cove. But I feel sorry for Sam, and I pray that my Master will change his mind.
Sam’s handicaps never stop him from trying to tell me things. Not that anything he says makes sense. We listened for a few moments. But as Emily was growing more and more anxious, clutching my neck and whimpering, I quickly waved goodbye and left.
Sarah was pleased to see us, though very busy. They are hoping for a visit from Governor Phillip. Master Dodd insists that the hut be made more comfortable. It seems that when the Governor came last February, he complained that he was sick, and that sleeping on a straw pallet on the floor was not to his liking.
I said, ‘Did he not praise us for all we have achieved in Rose Hill?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘Indeed, he seemed sorely disappointed. He were saying that even if this farm had more than a hundred convicts, that we can never grow enough to feed the entire colony. I can remember his exact words. “Experience, sirs,’“ she said in as perfect English as I have ever heard, ‘“has taught me how difficult it is to make men industrious who have passed their lives in habits of vice and indolence.”‘
Emily giggled and pleaded for more. Sarah can mimic anyone. Back in London, before she went to gaol, she worked in a playhouse, and she can make herself sound like anything she chooses. So she barked like a dog, miaowed like a cat and quacked like a duck.
Emily laughed and laughed. I am sure that so much laughing can only do her good, even though her papa urges me to keep her as quiet as possible.
‘Lizzie, I hear good reports of your new Master, Surgeon Russell,’ Sarah told me. ‘The men say he can cure their sicknesses with leeches. And he also tells them to avoid the salt meat, and to eat wild spinach and trap animals.’
‘Do they listen to him?’
‘I think some must. Certainly they are healthier.’
Before we left, she gave me two duck eggs, and told me to cook them in a pan together with some ship’s biscuit and potato tops, as this would make a tasty flan. But Emily was disappointed, as Sarah had to confess that there is not a single grain of sugar left in all of Rose Hill. Not even in exchange for rum.
Tonight we ate the flan with a good appetite. After I cleaned our tin plates, we settled in front of the fire. Keeping my promise, I started patching Mary, Emily’s doll. ‘Why do you call your doll Mary?’ her papa asked.
The child’s lower lip trembled. ‘Papa, you know Mama’s name was Mary. It stops me missing her so much.’
I glanced at Winston. He also looked ready to weep. He pretends to be strong and to enjoy teasing girls. But I think that he refuses to show his true feelings as he thinks this is unmanly.
Before everyone sank into a permanent gloom, the Surgeon turned to me. ‘Come now, Scheherazade, let Emily and Winston hear more of your story.’
I shook my head. ‘Sir, Scheherazade invented her stories. Mine are quite true …’
‘Yes, yes.’ He patted my shoulder. ‘Once, your life was most perilous and it is surely a miracle that you are still alive. But now you are safe with us and little can befall you. So you must tell us about your stay in Newgate Prison.’
I sighed a little. Then I settled closer to the fire and began.
Briefly, I told them how some poor folk claim going to gaol is little different from being cast onto the streets of London. Certainly the cells had no furniture, and every corner was knee-deep in filth. Nor did the turnkeys provide us with straw or clothes, and there was hardly anything to eat. Rich prisoners bought what they needed from the turnkeys who made great fortunes out of other people’s misery. The poor could only steal from each other. Many died of starvation and disease.
My Master said, ‘How did you manage?’
‘Sir,’ I said. ‘I would certainly be dead if Sarah had not found me.’
A log slipped out of the fire. My Master carefully replaced it. A possum ran over the roof making a hissing sound. The noise reminded me of the women I had met in Newgate who quarrelled and stole each other’s few belongings.
When I was pushed into my cell, I was so frightened I just wanted to die. Sarah found me crouched against a wall, my eyes tightly shut. A gaggle of women was trying to steal the few things I had managed to bring with me.
My Master said, ‘Did she not approach you as yet another thief?’
I said that I thought she had, and that was why she chased the other women away. But then we had started to talk and I told her all that had befallen me. She must have had much need of a friend, because very quickly she told me much about herself. She was a married woman. But her husband had treated her so harshly she had had to knife him to protect herself. Though her husband was not badly hurt, he called for the Runners and had his wife sent to gaol.
I paused to examine my stitching. My Master took the opportunity to lean forward to take a lighted twig from the fire and light his pipe. ‘I am almost out of tobacco,’ he said regretfully. ‘A small loss. But my pipe is such a comfort.’ He turned to me, ‘Come now, Scheherazade, continue.’
I looked up from my sewing. ‘Sarah said to me, “I have little in the world to live for. And neither have you. So we will protect each other.’“
‘And, Scheherazade, did she?’
‘Sir, she most certainly did. Without her protection I would not be here.’
In the pause that followed, my Master knocked his pipe against the hearth to empty it. I note that he mostly calls me Scheherazade. But when he forgets and calls me Lizzie, he lingers over my name—almost as if it has some special meaning for him. I think that once he was attache
d to another ‘Lizzie’. I would like to ask him who this was, but I think he would see this as far too bold for a convict-servant.
He turned to his son to say sternly, ‘Learn from this story how a single misfortune can ruin a man’s future.’
Winston yawned and ignored his papa’s message.
‘Enough for tonight,’ the Surgeon murmured. ‘I am tired and Emily is already asleep.’
We checked that no logs could fall out of the hearth and settled our pallets on the floor. I can just manage to stay awake long enough to write this down.
Thursday 13th May
My Master came home to tell us that we will be leaving for Sydney Cove in two days’ time. He said a message had come from the Governor. It seems that every surgeon in the colony is needed there.
I was so excited. I have been in Rose Hill for nearly a year. All this time I have longed for news from England. Not that any ships have called into Port Jackson, but it is hard to wait for a messenger who must come all the way from Sydney. Also, I was interested to see how the settlement had changed, or if it had at all.
Emily’s lessons over, I piggybacked her to Sarah’s to deliver my news.
Sarah immediately broke into loud sobs. I flung my arms around her saying, ‘Please don’t cry. I am not going forever.’
‘But you’re almost grown,’ she wept. ‘What if you meet a fancy man and marry him?’
I giggled. ‘Not likely.’
She grunted & quickly went on to talk of other things. ‘While you are in Sydney Cove, Lizzie, you must remember to be artful. On no account walk by yourself or just with the little one at night. And see that none of your few things are taken from you.’
‘I am always careful not to be robbed,’ I said indignantly.
‘Be that as it may. With all our precautions, you may recall how easy it were last year for thieves to break into our bakehouse and rob us blind.’
I promised her that I would heed her advice. Then I assured her that I would be back in Rose Hill as soon as possible. All this time Emily had been playing outside the house, drawing figures in the dust. She came inside and Sarah spent a long time cuddling her and making her promise to look after me. I think she is as fond of Emily as I am, and that she sometimes wishes that the little girl was hers.
Surviving Sydney Cove Page 6