‘We all know Bridget will do as she likes,’ scoffed Mumma.
But the proclamation was grim. Anyone caught planning a rebellion or of not informing on one could face up to a thousand lashes and be put in irons.
Ann offered a sobering thought, ‘We must learn to put our past behind us. We cannot change one thing that has happened, but we can shape our future. A better life is possible.’ She broke some morsels off her cake to feed to little Cleater, but was less than amused when I pinched them for myself. ‘Oh Mary, how can you begrudge an infant?’
‘Look at him! As plump as a bunny.’
‘You can blame Master Cleater for that.’ She smiled knowingly at the sight of Mumma pulling out our peachy-pie topped with clotted cream. ‘You have to admit we fare much better than most.’
‘Yes, yes Ann,’ I huffed, ‘we know we are all well favoured!’ I deliberately turned my attention to Meg. ‘I bumped into Mistress Rouse from the Nile but she would not speak to me.’
‘Why ever would she?’ cut in Mumma, ‘Them free settlers don’t want a bar of us.’
‘I bet she trades with Master Lord now he is free.’
‘Most likely, but she will never mix with him.’
Trust Mumma to have the last word! Tibs came limping towards us hand in hand with Tessa. Someone had tied a small red pocket-handkerchief to the buttonhole of his jacket. ‘Lawdy, don’t you look fine!’ I said, and hugged him tight for his gift. His eyes warmed golden and he risked a gentle smile. Such an obliging lad he is, with no harm in him at all. Ann fared better than most when she found him.
Ann gave me the littlest Cleater to hold, while she rubbed Mistress Tessa’s blue toes dry, then buttoned up her boots. ‘Let us hope you do not catch a chill,’ she said sternly, then looked up. ‘Where is her big sister?’
On realising I had given little thought to Poppy’s whereabouts since Saint George slew the dragon, I gave a worried glance about me. Thankfully Poppy had not wandered too far. I beckoned her over but she had planted her feet down firm near a mother tending a babe and was in no hurry to be moved. Oh well, stay there if you like, Mistress Sour-face!
Tibs led Ann and Tessa towards the fiddle players. Soon they were dizzily twirling—Tibs, with his perilous wobble—while I jigged around like Old Mother Slipper-slopper, bouncing the Cleater babe on his toes until he was cooing like a dove.
As the afternoon moved towards dusk, I brought the reluctant Poppy back into the fold while we watched William take part in a backwards-running race against the Macarthur servants. A pig was let loose. Much to our laughter and delight the runners easily outpaced it, but they came close to falling in the river. Amidst all this merriment William announced that he and Sarah were to be wed by the Reverend as soon as he received his pardon.
‘Sarah will be putting on all the airs and graces. Just you wait and see,’ sniffed Mumma after we gave them our congratulations. ‘Still, William is a solid, hardworking lad and shall cause her no harm.’
A sea of rum was beginning to take its effect on the townspeople. I was sent back with the girls to the safety of the house, leaving everyone else to their frolicking and fun. The last I saw of Mumma she was off to meet Master Larra at the Freemasons’ Arms.
27 April 1802
Fancy! At the exact same time as I was singing ‘Giant Bonaparte’ to little master Cleater, a French ship was coming through the Heads at Port Jackson. It makes you wonder don’t it, at the chances of singing about the French leader when one of his very own mystery ships was turning up in our waters. The Judge has hurried to Port Jackson to find out more.
‘Are we still at war with the Giant Bonaparte?’ I asked Mumma.
‘Anyone’s guess,’ she answered. ‘We are on the other side of the world. News takes a long time to reach us. We can only hope the French have not turned up to invade the colony.’
2 May 1802
Today I was up with the lark, collecting eggs from the coop, when I heard the crackle of straw. But it was not fowl flapping. I whipped around to find myself almost nose to nose with a woolly-bearded native. He wore a pair of ragged breeches tied up with string and a necklace made from hair string and shell. Scarred slashes and thin crescent moons patterned his chest. Without speaking, he opened his hand to reveal a pale creased palm.
‘Come to cadge eggs, is that it?’ I asked. My own fingers trembled as I offered one from my basket. No answer. But his eyes said it all. They did not stray from the eggs. ‘We all got to eat,’ I argued, ‘you can’t have the lot!’ I faltered, humming and hawing. ‘Lawdy, go on, then.’ I pushed the entire basket towards him.
The sound of gunshot shattered the quiet. We both froze like statues. William was on the verandah, brandishing one of the Judge’s muskets at two more natives who were picking through the kitchen garden. Another shot rang out but, like the previous, missed its target.
Without touching the basket, my egg fella took a hurried step away from me. On realising the only way to join the others in escape was to run into the open directly towards William’s loaded musket, he stopped and looked at me with his searching eyes.
A concerned shout came from William, ‘Are you safe, Mary?’
I realised that William could not see us. ‘I’ll be right up,’ I shouted back, motioning to the egg fella to hide behind the shedding near the coop. ‘Stay there,’ I whispered, ‘no moving until I come back.’ Putting down the egg basket, I rushed to meet William who was heading in my direction, doing so half way between the house and the shed. ‘What’s all the gunshot about?’ I asked innocently.
Reassured I was safe and well, William returned to his work. I sauntered back to the coop. There was no egg fella in sight. The basket remained where I left it. Three eggs were gone. One for him and one for each of his friends, enough being a feast I expect. To my shock, in the place of the missing eggs was the hair-string necklace.
Back in the house Mumma was causing an uproar. ‘Leaving us in fear of our lives, while he goes gallivanting to Port Jackson to fraternise with His Majesty’s enemies! How dare the Judge leave us here to be murdered in our very beds!’ She gripped hold of me, a strange wisp of fear crossing her face. ‘Did those natives do anything?’
‘They was only searching for food.’
She slumped into a chair, struggling to keep a grip on herself. ‘They are not like us.’
‘That may not be such a bad thing,’ I replied, pouring her a brew of China tea.
She took a sip. ‘Well! No harm done! What with Sarah being too caught up with the prospect of her wedding to be of any use, and William taking pot shots at all and sundry, no wonder my nerves are frayed. Left to run the place by myself I am! On top of all these troubles, now I need to act as a sentry.’ She spied the necklace. ‘What is that?’
‘Native must have dropped it,’ I said, ‘It’s mine now.’
‘As long as he don’t come after you.’
In case he did I decided to scarper to the riverside with the little mistresses. We found a grassy verge beneath a sprawling gum tree and lazed in the autumn shade.
I remarked, ‘Your father must be very happy about that French ship turning out to be friendly.’ He had sent word that the visitors were to be favoured with a dinner at Government House, then attend a fancy ball. ‘When you grow up you are bound to be invited along.’ Of late the girls had been taking much instruction from the Judge in the French language. I hoped they would teach me some words so I teased them, ‘One day I may get an invite too. You wouldn’t want me struck dumb, would you?’
Mistress Poppy was quick to sneer. ‘You shan’t ever! No convict girl needs to be schooled.’
‘What would you know? Besides I can already read and write,’ I said, giving her a sound reminder that the Governor’s wife, Mrs King, had already set up an orphan school to do just that.
‘You are too old to go there. And you have a mother,’ she argued back.
‘But you are not. And you do not!’
I slapped my han
d hard against my mouth as her eyes wet over with tears. Lawdy, I did not mean to hurt her so, by reminding her that her mumma had passed away. After all she was but a child. Deep down she must pine for a real mother to call her own. I wondered if that was the reason she stared so intently at that mother on Saint George’s Day. Oh, there was no excuse for my ill-tempered heart.
Mistress Tessa piped up uncertainly, ‘Vive la République.’
‘Veeve lah ray-poo-bleek,’ I repeated, aiming a sorrowful smile at Mistress Poppy. She must accept I did not intend to wrong her. ‘Come on,’ I implored, ‘teach me some more French words.’
Finally, she gave in. ‘Capitaine Hamelin.’
‘And who is Cap-ee-tayne Ammer-larn?’ I asked.
‘The French captain who has arrived, you shabby dolt!’ Poppy shouted, ‘I heard Father mention his name. See Teresa, she does not even know what she is saying. How I wish we had a proper nursemaid!’
‘Those ain’t the words of a lady,’ I snapped back. Now it was me feeling fired up. If Poppy refused to make amends with me, that was her trouble. ‘Have it your way then,’ I said sharply and stood up. ‘Time we headed back anyways.’
When Mumma spotted us walking along the track, she shouted across, ‘Leaving me alone with only that dull-witted creature Sarah for company! She could be sitting on a nest of ants and not even notice. And where are you? Off playing Hidey!’
‘Cap-ee-tayne Ammer-larn to you, Mumma, and veeve lah ray-poo-bleek,’ I muttered, not realising my words were being carried on the breeze directly towards her ears.
‘Do not mock me, daughter! I shall give you veeve-what’s-a-daisy! Is there no one here with any decency left to give me a hand? She stormed off one way, while I stomped in the other direction.
William, who had been standing all the while listening, opened his mouth wide at me and chuckled through chipped brown teeth. ‘Like peas in a pod, you two.’
3 May 1802
The Judge returned from Port Jackson this evening, anxious to know if we had come across any natives. There had been a sighting of Pemulwuy in Parramatta. He meant the native fella with the bounty on his head. The Judge said we would know him if we saw him because he had buckshot scars on his head and a blemish on his left eye. I decided he could not be my egg fella, because I was up close enough to see and he didn’t bear any such scars, but I wondered if he was amongst the others who William scared off.
Pemulwuy had been on the run for years. Twice in the past the redcoats had wounded him, but his people believed bullets could not kill him. A rumour had gone around that he wore shoes made from emu feathers and blood, which allowed him to travel so swiftly and lightly you could not tell if he was there or not.
Mumma turned pale and told me to keep that necklace out of sight. However, the Judge was satisfied the threat to our household had passed, saying he would make no further mention of William using one of his firearms. He was only protecting us after all.
The Judge was also full of news about how the Governor had welcomed the French ship, although no one seems to know if the war between our nations is over. The ship, Naturaliste, is on a Voyage of Discovery. Sir Joseph Banks, who is President of the Royal Society in London, signed a safe passport for Captain Hamelin and his crew on behalf of science. For this reason alone the Governor was happy to welcome them as citizens of the world.
Scores of people gathered at the harbourside, officers from the Corps and their wives in the welcoming front ranks. Soldiers paraded under arms. At the dropping of the anchor, the military band struck up. The ladies waved. Then the whole crowd erupted in a great bout of cheering. Governor King went aboard the Naturaliste, along with the Judge and other officials. They stayed for an hour. Afterwards Captain Hamelin and his officers went to dine at Government House.
I frowned. We always missed out on the fuss and fanfare! How I wish we could hurry up and visit Port Jackson, like Mumma has said we should one day.
7 May 1802
I have just come in from the verandah. The double doors of the library were open and the Judge was in deep conversation with an officer. They were discussing the French ship.
This is what I heard. Until the Governor hears further news about our state of war, he has decided to keep the Naturaliste at anchor a safe distance from our main settlement. He has also set out some strict rules for the French visitors to follow. They cannot travel freely up and down the waters. They must carry a pass like we do. Our officers must accompany their scientists if they wish to travel outside the settlement.
I heard Captain Kemp’s name mentioned too. He has been spreading rumours, saying there are too many French around here for his liking. The Judge said that no doubt many in the Corps were of the same mind.
Moreover, there is a second French ship which remains at sea. Supposedly this is the flagship. The Commander of the expedition sails on it. But I did not catch his name because Mistress Poppy came stamping in my direction saying loudly, ‘You are snooping on Father.’
‘I am not,’ I answered, lacing my fingers together behind my back and colouring red from the roots of my hair clear down to my knees.
11 May 1802
The Judge left the house today in a sour mood. He was hoping to enjoy the company of Captain Hamelin who is visiting Parramatta with some of his scientists, but the French captain has turned out to be a serious person, keeping much to himself. He declined the Judge’s invitation.
Later
Mumma asked me to cover for her while she slipped out to the Freemasons’ Arms. Luckily she was only gone for a short while and no one asked after her.
12 May 1802
Early this morning I only but chanced to remark that the fowls were not laying their usual number of eggs—indeed I found the straw empty—when Mumma snapped back, ‘Stop fretting about the likes of eggs!’
Her bitey-bitey reaction left me uneasy. I became even more suspicious when I saw her sneak out with a covered basket.
I decided to take the little mistresses for a stroll, hoping I could see what Mumma was up to. We had not gone far, when I was surprised to bump into—well, almost bump into—Bridget and her Master Green-eyes. They were a good distance ahead and he was dragging a barrow. Although the vineyards are not unduly far away, I had not met up with Bridget since we had parted at the Tank Stream.
When I called out she looked back over her shoulder and gave me a cautious wave. Disappointingly, she did not stop. Instead, the pair turned off the road onto a track.
Curiosity got the better of me. I told the girls we were going to play Hidey. We followed at a safe distance, slipping in and out of the scrub without being spotted. ‘I like playing Hidey,’ Mistress Tessa whispered. Mistress Poppy glared at me fiercely, but with some sense realised utmost silence was called for.
A constant sneeze proved a warning that someone else was near. Nervously Green-eyes looked back before giving a signal. I drew the girls in closer, making sure we were well hidden. Two sailors dressed in red knit caps and loose breeches appeared, lugging a sack from which they took out an axe, a hammer, a saw and a mallet. Although I was too far away to hear their spoken words, their drifting sing-song accents told me they were French sailors. They must be from Captain Hamelin’s crew.
From the barrow, Green-eyes uncovered a quantity of pumpkins and potatoes. The sailors traded the tools for the vegetables, loading the food into the sack. Master Green-eyes stashed the tools on the barrow, taking great pains to conceal them.
I could not believe my eyes. The rule of law is straightforward. Convicts are forbidden to trade for tools or weapons.
We stayed hidden until the way was clear, then rushed home, arriving there breathless. I sent the girls to their room while I pondered on whether or not to tell the Judge. There was a price to pay if I did not inform on Master Green-eyes. What did the proclamation say? Up to a thousand lashes. But if I did speak up, the same punishment would be dealt to Bridget and her rebel sweetheart. Rightly or wrongly, I decided to keep quie
t.
Luckily the Judge had not yet returned, but Mumma was back, and she knew a troubled expression when she saw one. ‘Whatever is wrong?’
Before I could reply, Mistress Poppy came up behind me and blurted out, ‘Mary hid us while some sailors traded an axe to some convicts for pumpkins. As soon as Father comes home I shall tell him.’
‘If you dare,’ threatened Mumma, blowing up in a temper, ‘I shall inform him you were the one who tore up his bills of exchange!’
‘That is untrue,’ Poppy argued tearfully, ‘Mary cut up them up as curling paper for our ringlets. Besides she is always sneaking Father’s paper to do her silly scribbly writing.’ She stamped off in a huff.
‘I mean it!’ Mumma called after her. She scowled at me suspiciously, ‘You better tell me what you been doing, poking your nose where it is not wanted.’
After I explained, she looked grim. ‘Bridget and her man are fools. No telling what may happen with that axe in the hands of rebels.’ She asked me to describe the sailors.
‘One broad and strong, the other peaky from a persistent sneeze.’
The colour drained from her face and she turned her temper on me. ‘You step into bother like that again and I shall give you such a paddling. How could you involve the girls? If the Judge finds out—’
The truth suddenly dawned on me. ‘Pumpkins and potatoes ain’t the only thing being traded, are they? The eggs! You been trading from our coop with those same French sailors. That’s where you disappeared to with the basket this morning.’
Mumma’s cagey eyes told me my hunch was right. ‘Can’t help myself if I bumped into a few of them sailors at the Freemasons’ Arms last night,’ she said. ‘They had a mind to speak with Master Larra, himself having French blood. And they were only after extra food to add to their ship rations. I simply traded some of our eggs for their own rum allowance.’ She glared at me. ‘Which is a far cry from exchanging food for axes! Not another word about what you saw, you hear, or you shall find yourself in the dock facing the Judge. Me, I’ve done nothing so serious. Remember, you shall be on your own!’
Convict Girl Page 5