Convict Girl

by Chrissie Michaels

  Since I had laid to rest my escape plans I was feeling brighter. Mumma must have been feeling in the same high spirits, for she said if I hurry through my morning chores and settle the children down with their needlepoint, I could have some time of my own.

  So I decided to head to the harbourside and see Captain Flinders drape out the colours on the Investigator in honour of King George’s birthday. Soon I was skipping down the hill to the paradiddle-lee-dee beating of the drums, hopeful of joining the goodly crowd.

  The delicious aromas of roasting beef and turnips filled the air. I envied the Judge his invitation to dine with the Governor. No less than fifty-two places were set at their table. Oh, to be so wealthy and powerful that you ate fresh roasted beef from a shining silver plate, not meat from the stores that was salted last winter and tasted like the tongue of an old boot.

  Being here without the little ladies meant I had to forfeit my position at the front. I stood well back, jostling with the other servants for a view of the officers. They appeared on deck dressed in full uniform, and we cheered as they proudly arranged themselves in formation. Our murmurings hushed when a drum roll signalled the salute. There was a blast of gunfire. The flags rose. Once more we cheered loudly.

  After the officers and marines came ashore we divided into two lines along the roadway. With their drums beating, they marched up the hill to pay their respects to the Governor. I soon tired of keeping up with their paradiddles and wandered over to the Tank Stream where I had first caught the barge to Parramatta. I held my nose to guard against the vapours from the foul run-off. The friendly waterman was not around, but at Underwood’s shipyard an unfinished schooner lay on bearers. I wandered over to one of the workers and asked the name of the ship.

  ‘Casuarina,’ he answered, ‘named after the timber she is hewn from.’

  Later

  The girls and I have spent the evening listening to the revelry and frolicking coming from the taverns up on the Rocks. By the time a volley of shots signalled the end of the celebrations for King George, Defender of the Realm of England and Ireland … and so forth, we were all snuggled in a blissful, sleep-eyed huddle, like a basket of nuzzling puppies.

  13 June 1802

  We are back in Parramatta, carrying the news with us that the Coromandel has arrived from Spithead. All the convicts were reported to be in a good state of health. Most importantly for the household, word came in the dispatches from His Majesty that Judge Atkins now holds the official position of Judge Advocate. We no longer call him Acting Judge Advocate.

  Mumma was as pleased as Punch at his advancement. ‘Bound to improve our way of life,’ she said contentedly.

  18 June 1802

  We are back in Port Jackson because a few days ago Commander Baudin’s ship the Géographe came in sight of the harbour. He is the one that Captain Flinders met at Encounter Bay when the path of their ships crossed. At first the wind and currents were too heavy for the French ship to navigate through the Heads. The sails fought feebly against the wind, like a fat winter robin bracing against a cold northerly blow, his feathers blown backwards. Most of the crew were suffering from scurvy. Twenty were near death. They were rushed to our hospital.

  Mumma is all of a flurry because we have had to make the house here spick and span. The Judge is set on receiving a visit from Commander Baudin at his earliest convenience. He is hoping to forge a better friendship with him than ever he could with Captain Hamelin, who seemed to have little inclination for his company.

  Under the good instruction of Mistress Tessa, I have learnt to pronounce the Commander’s name the French way. To my own little rhythm, I Bow-darn here and Muh-shoe-err there, throwing myself, to Mumma’s amazement, into scrubbing and sweeping and polishing alongside Sarah. By nightfall we have the house shipshape. Now all Muh-shoe-err Bow-darn has to do is drop by and pay the Judge his longed-for visit. Even I am a little curious to see him.

  24 June 1802

  Still no call from Commander Baudin! In the meantime the Judge has instructed Mumma to purchase some metal buttons, playing cards, sealing wax and wafers from Master Lord’s warehouse. I so fancied seeing the other delights that may be for sale—silk and twist, yards of hair ribbon, soft spun sugar. But now I am vexed because Mumma told me only five minutes ago that I was to visit the hospital and do so without delay.

  ‘But you said we were to be at Master Lord’s on the hour?’ I beseeched.

  She uttered a lengthy sigh. ‘I knew your goodliness would not last for long. The Judge wants us to deliver those bedridden sailors from the Géographe some broth, a basket of fresh greens and some poultices. Make haste. And take the two mistresses with you.’

  ‘Ain’t you coming along?’

  ‘How can I be at Master Lord’s and over at the hospital at the same time, daughter?’ She would not be swayed by my protests, and sent me off with the basket of goods, a jug of steaming broth and a scolding: ‘Do try not to spill, Mary.’

  I was loaded up like a packhorse. With every one of my angry strides the warm broth splish-sploshed onto the ground. The little mistresses struggled to keep up. ‘Pick up your heels,’ I grumbled at them, ‘Do not dillydally.’

  The hospital ward smelt like rotting meat. Scurvy had hit the sailors hard. Their gums were raw, their teeth loosened. Many were so weak that Surgeon Thomson was tending them alongside their own ship doctor. I could almost hear Ann’s kindly voice in my ear, ‘Such suffering … So hard to bear …’ Ann is too virtuous! If she were here with me I know she would be blathering on how broth was a cure for all and warms the cockles of the heart. But I had little inclination for charity, especially when I should be at Master Lord’s.

  Mistress Tessa started to whimper. I implored her to cover her eyes. Then I thought better of it. This was no place for little ladies. The girls must wait outside. I sent them off with a stern warning, ‘On no account go wandering.’

  As well as their daily ship’s rations of bread, meat and wine the sailors were receiving fresh vegetables and daily servings of lemon water. They did not require my broth. Nor were our poultices needed. Commander Baudin had already purchased medicines from the stores for them—bark to treat fever, salts for the liver, lints for dressings, quantities of lime juice.

  So there I was, wasting my time, while his sailors were full of complaints. For one, I was shovelling in the broth too fast. I was burning another man’s lips. They had been kept too long at sea. Did I not understand? They had been too long on the southern coast. Too long in Van Diemen’s land. Lawdy! I wished to be away from their whining as hastily as I could. Yet, I suppose Ann and Mumma and the Judge may have had a point. These men seemed to be suffering badly from the scurvy and they were exhausted. So I must forgive them.

  Outside I looked for the mistresses. Where were those little rascals? Oh no! They had up and disappeared. Lawdy, I distinctly told them not to wander.

  Over an hour had gone by. I was fearful. The girls were nowhere to be found. ‘Tessa! Poppy!’ I called frantically, searching for them over by the barracks and up at the Rocks. I dashed over to Master Lord’s, then ran all the way to Cattle Point. There was no sign of them anywhere. No longer could I dillydally. I had to alert Mumma. Lawdy, please do not let anything have happened to my girls!

  Filled with wretchedness, I rushed to our house and flung open the door, only to find Mistress Poppy sitting ever so serenely in the parlour, teasing out some stitching in her needlepoint, while Mistress Tessa was full of cheer playing by the hearth with a peg doll that Tibs had carved for her.

  Mumma let fly. ‘This poor child rushed over to Lord’s store in a squall of tears, dragging her little sister behind, griping that you had left them unattended. The whole of Port Jackson marked their distress. I have made the girls promise not to utter a word to the Judge, but I cannot prevent others from doing so!’

  ‘But Mumma—’

  She silenced me. ‘Ifs and buts, daughter. Enough!’

  25 June 1802

 
; I need not have spent a restless night concerned over the girls’ disappearance, for the Judge seemed no wiser this morning before he left on his duties. I only hope it stays that way. These days he talks of nothing but Commander Baudin, although we are still waiting to catch sight on our doorstep of the man himself.

  We did find out that Captain Flinders has already visited the Géographe. Yesterday Commander Baudin returned the compliment by visiting the Investigator, where he was ceremoniously piped on board and welcomed as an important person of high rank.

  In the Great Cabin, Captain Flinders proudly spread out his charts, revealing all the locations he had explored and mapped on New Holland’s south coast. He pointed out those areas that were his discovery. Commander Baudin was both surprised and disappointed when comparing the work of the two nations, to find his own portion so much less than he had supposed.

  ‘But he did not object,’ said the Judge fervently, as if he had been there with them, ‘Such is the mark of a man of honour. I foresee both navigators will achieve the glory they deserve.’

  26 June 1802

  We remain in Port Jackson. Amongst all this hustle and bustle, another transport, the Hercules has arrived, this one direct from Ireland. The sorrowful news is that a month out from port, thirteen rebels died while trying to take control of the ship. Their mutiny was a failure. For the remainder of the voyage, the ship’s master kept his prisoners so closely confined they suffered untold misery. Now he himself has been put under guard and is to face trial.

  27 June 1802

  We are still in Port Jackson. According to the Judge, an instant friendship has formed between Governor King and Commander Baudin. The Judge remains hopeful that the Commander, who has taken lodgings not far from Government House, will soon be paying him a call. That is why we are to stay.

  Rumours of invasion are still hovering over the colony like a sea mist. So the Governor has insisted that the Géographe anchor north of the harbour in Neutral Bay, while Commander Baudin’s crew replace the hull’s copper sheathing. Nevertheless he has allowed them to set up a base at Cattle Point alongside Captain Flinder’s camp. One tent for their sail makers and two as an observatory. Their astronomer wishes to record the Transit of Mercury.

  I wished to see this tent town for myself. So today the little mistresses and I sauntered down the hill towards Cattle Point. When we reached there, the French visitors were ferrying plants by the crate load over to the sailmaker’s tent. We lingered awhile to watch their industry. Animals were also being conveyed up the hill to be dropped off at the Commander’s lodgings. We amused ourselves by guessing what would appear next.

  ‘My eye glass doth spy…something grey and hoppy.’

  ‘A hopping kangaroo,’ guessed Mistress Tessa. She said, ‘My eye glass doth spy…a spindle-legged, walking bird.’

  ‘Emu!’ I answered. ‘My go! Hmmm…My eyeglass doth spy… Koo koo koo ka ka ka!’

  Mistress Tessa burst into a giggle. ‘A laughing jackass.’

  I tickled her. ‘And here is how you turn into one.’

  She tickled me back. Soon we were both rolling on the sandy ground, covered in grass and sticky buds, and cackling like hens. ‘Do join in, Mistress Poppy,’ I urged, realising she had not yet had a turn. She shook her head. Oh, I cannot fathom her ways. What a sour little lady she is.

  Nevertheless I followed her gaze towards a well-dressed officer who seemed intent on surveying the harbour. His pale powdered hair had a severe fringe, and the back curled over the crisp collar of his blue longcoat. There was gold braid on his lapels and a soft white cravat banded snugly around his neck. Lawdy! I thought, My eyeglass doth spy…Muh-shoe-err Bow-darn.

  Port Jackson

  28 June 1802

  Absorbed in the matter of returning a book to the Judge’s bookshelf that I had sneaked to help with my reading practice, I was singing happily to myself, when a sharp voice from the armchair by the hearth took me by surprise, speaking English well enough to be understood.

  ‘You think us barbarians, Mademoiselle? Wherever did you learn such a dreadful song?’

  I dropped a curtsey bob, almost tumbling to the floor. ‘Beg pardon, sir, I thought the room unoccupied.’

  Sitting there with a slightly exasperated glint in his eye was the same man I had seen at Cattle Point. Commander Baudin flicked a handkerchief to his mouth and cleared his throat. A small droplet of blood stained the silk. ‘You have not answered yet my question.’

  ‘On the cobbled streets of London, sir!’ I hastened to reply. ‘Everybody there sings the ‘Giant Bonaparte’.’

  ‘Mon Dieu! Such a description of the First Consul is too improper, too impertinent! Though he is a giant among men. Mais oui!’

  ‘You are a friend of Muh-shoe-err Bone-apart?’ I felt a scarlet glow creep up my neck. ‘Beg pardon, sir.’ I bobbed again.

  His affronted eyes settled. He looked most tired. ‘Napoleon Bonaparte is my patron, this is true. He is no monster. How do you say? He is a soldier.’

  I gave yet another astonished curtsey and said, ‘Mercy,’ before scarpering out of the room, leaving Commander Baudin with a baffled expression. He must surely be trying to fathom out my ability to speak—if only one poorly pronounced word—in his favoured language.

  Port Jackson

  29 June 1802

  ‘I never took to the man!’ the Judge bellowed across the table. Of all the evenings to be worse the wear for drink, with Commander Baudin as his honoured guest!

  The Judge meant Captain Hamelin, who had previously left on the Naturaliste. Except Captain Hamelin had returned. He had only been away three weeks. I frowned at the mention of his name. All in all, I could only say that it had turned out to be good fortune for us when Ann and I failed to stow away on his ship.

  There has still been plenty of scaremongering going about Port Jackson that the French intend to take over the colony, especially now there are two of their ships in our cove. Mumma is a firm believer in such talk. But I am not of the same opinion. I have seen those French sailors with my own eyes caring for their plant and animal cargo. This has more than convinced me that they are on a true Voyage of Discovery for Science.

  ‘Hurry along, Mary!’ I wished the Judge would stop shouting. He was calling for Mumma, who was heaving her way up the cellar steps. She hated having to grope around in dark corners and dodge spider webs to retrieve more of the Judge’s best brandy.

  ‘Stay out of the way, daughter,’ Mumma warned me. ‘I for one shall be well and truly glad to return to Parramatta, and leave this fraternising with the enemy far behind us.’

  2 July 1802

  Mumma has had her wish granted. We have arrived back in our riverside township.

  ‘Stop putting fanciful notions into that head of yours,’ she scoffed at me.

  Much to her annoyance I have been trying to keep Mistress Tessa amused by having her teach me some more French words.

  ‘They are not fanciful,’ I argued back, ‘the Judge may be happy to hear that I take such an interest. What if Commander Baudin chooses to visit again? I may be required to speak to him.’

  ‘Do not be so meddlesome. Those important people have nothing to say to a convict girl.’

  ‘The Judge takes an interest in you.’

  ‘He has a lot to be grateful to me for, what with his young children left motherless and his Lady wife so far away,’ Mumma chided, ‘I am only trying to take care of us all. You are not helping by filling your head with such grandeur.’ She slapped the rag-cloth she was holding into my hand and continued on her way.

  Lawdy! If I wished to utter a few French words I would. Whenever, wherever and whichever way I could! I whispered across to the little mistress, ‘Poke out your tongue.’ She gave a fearful glance towards Mumma’s disappearing back. ‘Poke it out at me, I mean. Let me show you something.’ I began to drum my finger over her tongue. ‘Paradiddle!’ I said. ‘See, that is how we speak English. And this,’ my fingers started to prance about her
mouth, ‘is how they speak French. Sing song! The words leap upwards at the end.’

  All I can say is if Muh-shoe-err Bow-darn ever does decide to drop by our house in Parramatta, I intend to try another Mercy or even a Ducks out on him. Sing song!

  7 July 1802

  Such a horror ship has arrived from Ireland. The news has cast a dark shadow over the colony. How can it be that a ship’s master has no natural feeling? I can barely bring myself to spit out the name of this ship. Better the Atlas was named Misery. Sixty convict men and two women—dead—their bodies tossed overboard and left to be washed up by the tide. The remainder were in such a state they had to be carried ashore.

  During the day more dire reports have filtered in. Sick convicts had been kept in heavy irons. The air scuttles had been fastened. The hatchways had been boarded up. Some wretches were even left chained to the dead. Everyone endured fever, filth, starvation. It is a crying shame!

  Even Mumma, who never has a virtuous word to utter about the rebels has been shocked. We spoke of how fortunate we were to be sent out on the Nile where death did not touch anyone on board: ours being a brand new ship, its sails and riggings clean as a whistle when we began our journey; and the master decent enough. He kept us alive by not skimping on our rations. He even allowed us a daily walk on deck to take in the sea air.

  The plain fact was that the ship’s master on the Atlas had wilfully herded his prisoners together like oxen between decks so he could stack the ship with goods and spirituous liquor to sell on shore. We all knew to whom. Those profiteering officers in the Corps, no doubt.