Convict Girl

by Chrissie Michaels

  But it did not stop her making fun of the new mistress’s ordering ways: ‘“Where is the damask cover for the table, Beckwith? Bring me the tea caddy this instant!’” Mumma said the Lady made her remove the key chain, then went off with the whole set of keys. ‘As if I was a meddler!’ Mumma exclaimed, ‘As if I was some sort of common thief!’

  ‘But you are, Mumma,’ I whispered back. ‘So am I.’

  She chose to ignore the truth of this remark. ‘I tell you this is only the beginning, daughter. I dread to think what will follow.’

  1 November 1802

  What did follow, we were quick to learn this morning, was a list of orders:

  1. From now on We (meaning the new Lady of the house) do not allow servants to stay in the room when We are present.

  2. No remark is to be made upon the industry in which we (meaning us servants) find any of the little mistresses engaged.

  3. If their needlework is laid aside we are not to look curiously at the embroidery.

  4. When a visitor calls we are not to propose any questions.

  5. The silver is to be locked away.

  6. We are not to touch any books in the library, nor any of the Judge’s papers.

  7. Henceforth none of us must fuss with the Judge’s personal needs.

  8. We are not to speak unless spoken to.

  Mumma wailed, ‘After all my hard work at winning the Judge’s confidence, she means to keep me away from him. No, I will never let her do this!’

  ‘You got no choice,’ I cautioned, ‘you must try not to vex her.’

  ‘It is more serious than you realise, daughter. She wants to send your hide to the tannery as well.’

  Later

  I have been driven out of the children’s bedroom! From now on I have to share a bed with Mumma, who snores so loudly I fear I will never sleep again.

  Through the thin wall I heard such a terrible argument going on between the Judge and his wife. It had to do with a dinner and ball to which they were invited. The Lady said, ‘How can I dine there, Richard? With those people? Who are they? Disgraced sons and daughters? Merchants? Convicts? Down and outs? Slum dwellers? I cannot suffer the shame. Do not ask me to do it, husband, I implore you!’

  ‘You prefer loneliness?’ he answered.

  ‘I cannot be more lonely than I have been these past painful years.’

  ‘Here is a different world, Elizabeth. I have special duties. You must grow accustomed, or you will pay too heavy a price.’

  ‘I fear I cannot.’

  ‘Better you had stayed away.’

  ‘Much as you dislike the idea, Richard, your family sent me here. They have grown tired of rescuing you from your debts.’

  A door slammed and there was silence. I truly hoped my poor little mistresses were not awake, listening, all alone, without me there to settle them. I hoped they were deaf and blind to all this unhappiness.

  2 November 1802

  All morning the little mistresses have been sitting in the parlour with their new mother. Now they have gone out with her to take some air.

  I was out on the verandah when they left. Mistress Poppy seemed most taken with Lady Atkins, but Mistress Tessa looked miserable. That is, until she saw me. Then she waved. Joyfully, I waved back. Only then did I hear the Lady’s voice in the background, ‘Teresa, you must stay away from all the servants,’ pestering my poor little mistress to ignore me. Silently I began to scream: They are not your daughters. They hardly know you. I am the one who should be looking after them.

  Mumma clucked her tongue at me when I told her these thoughts. ‘Remember give no attention to the girls, even when they demand it. I will try to convince the Judge that he needs you as a scullery maid to work alongside Sarah. Heaven knows there is so much more to do now his wife has joined the household. She means to make us all thrifty, correct and sober.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose we may as well start sooner rather than later. Go and give the parlour rug a light sprinkling of salt. Brush the grains in well, mind, to banish the moths. If the Lady returns, disappear quickly. Best not to cross her path.’

  Later that day

  I could not stop myself. I ran and ran until I was breathless, finishing up at the Cleaters where I collapsed into Ann’s arms in a flood of tears.

  Through my sobs I managed to describe what had happened. How Mistress Tessa had told off the Lady whilst they were out taking the air, calling her a shabby silly dolt! Then Poppy had confided to Lady Atkins how I had scared her with the tale of rats eating naughty children. She also told about the day we visited the French sailors at the hospital and how the girls made their way alone to Master Lord’s. And how on Saint George’s Day Mistress Rouse was most upset by Tessa’s puddle jumping. Even how I had left Poppy unattended by the river bank while we ate peachy-pie. And how Tessa had sung the ‘Giant Bonaparte’ to Commander Baudin himself. And how everything was all my fault!

  The Lady summoned me. She said she fears I have had too wild an influence on the girls. What she meant was I am of bad character. Furthermore, she was presently seeking the employment of a more learned and respectable nursemaid to care for and school them in piano, needlepoint and drawing. I am to be reassigned.

  Ann has tried to comfort me. But the truth is that there is nothing anyone can do.

  3 November 1802

  There is no allowing me to stay on until the new nursemaid is selected. I am to be packed off without delay. The Lady thought this was for the best, sparing the little mistresses any further distress. ‘Much too unsettling.’ she told me, ‘for them to bid you farewell.’ There must be slivers of ice in her heart.

  Mumma told me I am being sent directly to work as a maidservant to Commander Baudin for the remainder of his stay. ‘You can thank me for this small mercy,’ she said. ‘More labour is desperately needed up the Hawkesbury and you were well in contention.’ But Mumma could not say what would happen to me when the French ships sailed away.

  Sorrowfully I rolled up my spare shift, petticoat, handkerchief and bonnet into a bundle. Mumma saw me settled on to the cart. William is to drop me at Port Jackson. She gripped my hand before we departed. ‘Steel your heart, daughter. I will do what I can and endeavour to see you soon.’ She promised to let Ann know where I have been sent.

  All along the road from Parramatta to Port Jackson I was in a miserable state of mind. Out of the blue, I heard a familiar call, ‘Dear-o!’ Oh, I cannot describe how it lifted me from my doldrums like a fresh breeze to turn my eyes towards the other side of the road and see Bridget taking some rest under a gum tree. She was on a journey between towns. ‘Over here, dear-o!’ She waved her arms at me.

  I grabbed the reins from William. ‘I beg you, please stop!’

  Ever so kindly, he agreed. ‘I daresay we can rest the horse for a spell.’

  I rushed across to Bridget, who looked searchingly into my eyes. ‘Tell me, whatever has gone wrong?’

  As she listened to my sorry tale, I noticed her face was scored with exhaustion and anxiety. ‘But what of you and Joe?’

  She glanced across to check that William was out of earshot. Her news was dire. Joe had escaped from Castle Hill and had gone into hiding. ‘I believe he went to seek out those French sailors who traded the tools,’ Bridget told me. ‘They once gave him a notion to stow away on their ship. I have been in Port Jackson seeking word, but could discover nothing about his present whereabouts.’

  ‘The sailors must want something in return for their help.’

  ‘Mostly information about our colony, I think.’ She hesitated. ‘You have met Commander Baudin. Do you believe he plans to create a French settlement in Port Phillip or in Van Diemen’s Land?’

  ‘Lawdy, no! He seems interested only in science and mapmaking.’

  ‘Not all his men hold the same view.’ She squeezed my hand. ‘I know I made you swear an oath, but if you hear anything about Joe will you let me know?’

  I nodded. ‘Then what will you do?’

  ‘Tr
y to follow him,’ she answered.

  As we parted, I thought: Rightly or wrongly Bridget has to do what she has to do. If only we knew where we would all end up.

  4 November 1802

  This is my first morning as the Commander’s maidservant. Earlier I stood before him waiting for a list of duties. It came as a surprise to discover he remembered me saying ‘Mercy’ to him.

  ‘For a convict girl to learn a few words in French,’ he told me ‘must only bring her closer to Égalité. You understand? In my country the revolution gave everyone a belief in equality. And in freedom. Let me explain.’

  With a flourish he removed a sheet of fine white writing paper from the desk and revealed a beautiful letterhead containing a sketch of his ships sailing on the ocean. Scrolled above the masts he read the sing-song words: Liberté, Bonaparte Premier Consul, Égalité. Pointing to them he translated, ‘Freedom. Bonaparte, who is of course, our First Consul. And Equality. The pursuit of knowledge can only be good, n’est-ce pas? Therefore while you remain here it would serve us both well if you learn a few more French words.’

  I gave a curtsey bob. ‘Mercy, Muh-shoe-err Bow-darn, sir.’

  My eyes strayed curiously around. The room was a treasure trove cluttered with specimens, artefacts, swaddles of cloth, crates and baskets. Pails stood in the corner filled with closed seedpods in the shape of canoes and crescent moons. Some were hard like stones, or exposed tiny black and red seeds. I wondered if the ones I gave the sailor were somewhere about.

  ‘Let us commence at once,’ said the Commander. ‘At the same time I shall inform you about our voyage: Do you know how many scientists I brought on this voyage?’ He did not wait for me to answer. ‘Three botanists, trois, five zoologists, cinq, two rock experts, deux, three artists, trois, five gardeners, cinq, two astronomers, deux, two geography experts, deux. Though some have departed, c’est vrai. Oblige.’

  I stood by the oak table, wondering what he meant me to say. The only thing I could think of was: ‘Five oranges, cinq, and three lemon trees, trois, at the Judge’s house were filled with fruit last winter, while the northeast wind killed the two grapevines, deux.’

  The Commander harrumphed at my efforts and my face flushed. I guessed he would want to know as much about Parramatta as I did about his scientists. Nervously, I fixed my stare on a bag lined with fleece, standing on the tabletop.

  ‘Never touch any part of the collection without my permission,’ he warned, picking up the bag. ‘At all costs we must prevent damage.’ He proceeded to gently unwrap and lift out the contents, revealing a beautiful shell of mother-of-pearl, open and gleaming as if still wet from the ocean. ‘Citizen Péron collected this,’ he said, ‘The man has a burning curiosity for shells and jellyfish. This one is destined for Madame Bonaparte. The First Consul has ordered me to collect not only for the Paris museums, but things for the pure pleasure of his wife.’

  I blurted out, ‘If I were Madame Bonaparte, sir, I would be filled with joy when all your creatures and specimens arrive. And if I were you, I would be pleased to think that for all my hard work I should get the fame and fortune owing to me.’

  ‘Mais oui.’

  His agreeable reply made me feel bolder. ‘All the people of France will surely honour you again.’

  ‘Again?’ He looked me searchingly in the eye. ‘Tell me, what do you know about my first expedition?’

  ‘You went to the West Indies,’ I spilled out, without thinking. ‘Had a parade through Paris. That is why Muh-shoe-err Bonaparte chose you as leader of this voyage.’ Too late, I realised my blunder.

  ‘Aha!’ He clapped his hands together. A smile played in his eyes. ‘You were listening the day the Judge’s daughter sang that ridiculous song. I sensed someone lurking and told the Judge so—’ He broke off, then said seriously, ‘Though I fear I may have caused your dismissal.’

  I shook my head. ‘No sir, you were not the cause.’

  A rap on the door took away his attention. ‘Show in the visitor, Mary.’

  The door was flung open before I could reach it. A young Frenchman with a shock of dark hair strode across the room. In his rush he almost bowled me over. ‘You must come at once, Citizen Commander, he said bluntly, ‘there is discord on the flagship. Those hotheaded officers you put in charge are not acting like gentlemen. Blows have been exchanged!’

  The Commander put his hand across his eyes in apparent despair. ‘Damn them, why cannot men of rank obey the most simple of orders?’

  They both rushed away, leaving me wondering what was to be expected of me in this unusual whirlwind of a life I had been thrown into. I looked down at my hands. They were trembling.

  5 November 1802

  So far, the Commander has either been aboard one of his ships, visiting officials, or seeing to the purchase of supplies. Left to my own company, I occupy myself by sponging and mending clothes, dusting and brushing, carrying and fetching to table. I have even re-formed an acquaintance with a wayward cockatoo. Ann would agree I was becoming muddled in the head because I have named the bird after Hetty, on account of all its squawking. I sing to her and scratch her neck every time I pass by.

  7 November 1802

  The Commander left early to buy supplies from a trading vessel in the cove. He must guarantee all his supplies last twelve months, douze, for the two ships, deux, continuing on the expedition, and eight months, huit, for the Naturaliste. By that time Captain Hamelin should have reached France. See how fast I am learning the language!

  I have just returned from an errand myself. The Commander gave me a message to deliver to Underwood’s boatyard. When I arrived the yard was full of the reek of tar simmering on a brazier. I could not help but stare at some young lads who were busy caulking a boat. They were wearing only breeches and boots, their chests brown from working long hours in the sunshine.

  ‘You there,’ the one in charge called over to me, ‘what’re you up to? Giving us the evil eye?’ They all chuckled.

  I grew flustered. ‘Only delivering a letter for Master Underwood from Commander Baudin.’

  ‘Leave it with me, I shall see he receives it.’

  I stepped over the planks strewn around the ground to where he was pushing a handful of unwoven old rope into the seams between the boat’s boards. In his right hand he wielded a mallet. I knew why. He must always listen to the fullness of the sound. In his left was a caulking iron. A small boy followed behind with a tar pot and was brushing the black gluey substance over the oakum joints to waterproof them. I watched for several minutes while they repeated the steps.

  ‘Make sure it is forced deep enough,’ I ventured. ‘In my view that iron rang too hollow.’

  The caulker placed the mallet on the ground and frowned at me, ‘Know all about boats, do you then?’

  ‘A little. I used to help my father back on the Thames.’ The tar boy gave me a disbelieving smirk. I growled back, ‘And you, don’t skimp on that tar.’

  The caulker gave a hearty laugh. ‘Pity you were not born a lad, we are short handed and could do with a keen eye like yours about the place.’

  I may not have been born a son, I thought as I took my leave, but my dadda thought I was able enough.

  Later

  The Commander has been making a final review about who is to continue on the second leg of the expedition. I have had to oblige him by repeating more numbers. Thirteen officers, treize, and fifty-nine crew, cinquante-neuf, are to be sent back to France on the Naturaliste. Officer Freycinet is to command Casuarina, which will accompany the Géographe on the voyage. He has a brother on the expedition. I wondered which one Captain Kemp wished to duel.

  8 November 1802

  Today the Commander has been hard at work with Captain Hamelin, sorting through a pile of papers. Neither seemed to notice as I dragged a chair into the light and took up my stitching. I was endeavouring to mend a torn flounce on one of the Commander’s shirts. If only the thread did not tangle so.

  ‘Port Jackson has pr
ovisioned us well for our final leg,’ I heard him tell the Captain, ‘The colony has supplied us with 9000 pounds sterling worth of goods.’ He leafed through the bills. ‘To Commissary Palmer over £600. The value of £2500 to the stores. £960 pledged to Simeon Lord. £50 and 230 gallons of rum to James Underwood for the purchase of the Casuarina—’

  Carelessly, I pricked my finger with the needle and stifled a yelp, astonished to think that the Giant Bonaparte would pay a king’s ransom to a nation he was at war with only a few months back. Most astonishing of all was that he was willing to pay so much to emancipist traders like Master Lord and Master Underwood. I concentrated so hard on my stitching, that I did not realise the Commander was calling for me until he shrieked, ‘Mary, are your ears blocked? Fetch more ink!’

  I dropped my sewing to the floor and hastened to do as he bid.

  Later

  This evening the Commander was overcome by an insistent wrenching cough.

  ‘Fetch me a drink, Mary,’ he barked.

  I returned with a cup of honey and rum to find him hunched over the desk. He was holding a shaky hand to the bowl under his chin and was spitting. There was a rattle in his every breath.

  ‘Let me help you, sir,’ I said, loosening his fingers to empty the bowl, where I noticed streaks of blood in the sputum. ‘You should take some rest.’

  9 November 1802

  The Commander seemed better this morning. You would not know that yesterday he was suffering so pitifully. This afternoon he is to hold a farewell aboard the Géographe. Governor King, the Judge, other principal officers and their wives, as well as the Masters Lord and Underwood are to be his guests, for he wishes to thank them all for their assistance. With such a mixed list of guests, I doubt Lady Atkins would agree to attend.