Convict Girl

by Chrissie Michaels

  ‘Listen to her, giving the orders,’ the master carpenter sneered.

  ‘Do it!’ Baudin demanded. ‘Do not make things worse,’ he whispered quietly to me, ‘They take your actions as my weakness.’

  If they had done their duty in the first place, he would not be suffering. He was lucky to escape with his life. Lawdy! What if the ill deed had been done with deliberate intent?

  When we were safely back on board the Commander ordered the saw set up on deck. To prove he was not badly hurt he cut the first piece of timber. I think he hoped his fine example would lead to a change of heart from his officers, but none of them offered to help.

  23 January 1803

  3 Pluviôse XI

  Last night the officers once more refused the Commander’s order to oversee the work on the longboat. They expect Commander Baudin to oversee everyone and everything, while they do nothing. I knew that timber would twist and warp if it is not used quickly. I think this is what made me decide that if no one else would do anything then I must. This is one Beckwith who ain’t in the mind to perish if a mishap should befall our ship.

  So at first light this morning, to the ugly grins of those on duty, I checked over some of the boards that had already been nailed onto the longboat. Grabbing a handful of oakum, I began caulking the seams. Dadda would have been proud as Punch to see his boat-building daughter hard at work and happy to be so.

  The Watch sounded and a yawning caulker sauntered onto the deck, closely followed by two others. ‘Duty calls!’ he joked. Without the officers pushing them to do so, the carpenters and caulkers were showing little heart to finalise their work. He frowned on seeing me. ‘What is this? Are you mocking us?’

  Boldly, I dared him, ‘Try to make a better job than I, Master Caulker. If you can.’

  He stormed over and pushed me aside, angrily picking up the mallet. Another grunted and grabbed the iron. Shaking his head, a third set up the brazier for the tar.

  At that instance I slipped away, only to see the Commander appear on deck. On witnessing their industry, he looked jubilant. I heard him call across, ‘Enfin! I have shamed you all into action.’

  You did, sir, you did, I said smugly to myself, heartened to see him so cheerful. As long as they kept up the work what did it matter if the officers thought the Commander had set the caulkers and carpenters working, or if the Commander thought his officers had repented and done their duty.

  24 January 1803

  4 Pluviôse XI

  Today our time at Ile Borda has been spent much the same as it was the day before. Cutting wood. Filling water casks. Dogs coated in the blood of kangaroos. The Commander did however, set free a boar, a sow, a rooster and some hens, so future visitors could have a fresh food supply. There should be plentiful bacon, fowl and eggs on hand to fill many a hungry belly.

  The arrival of two pretty live dwarfish emus with very short legs served to stave off my boredom. This now made five emus on board. The Commander had it in mind for his countrymen to farm them. He said Madame Bonaparte would also enjoy seeing the tiny emus parade through her gardens the way her peacocks did.

  Our evening meal was a bowl of emu. An unlucky one that the dogs mauled. The Commander said it reminded him of milk fed turkey. I shall have to take his word, for I have never tasted turkey, milk fed or otherwise.

  Citizen Lesueur, the other artist on board, made a sketch of the little emus, which he passed around. Frantically, Citizen Petit pencilled a similar sketch. Only his emu bore the Commander’s face, the feathers resembled unwound ropes, and an oakum mallet was tucked under the wing. Everyone around me laughed. Citizen Petit could not contain his smirk. I gave him a pitying look and turned aside. He shall not draw me into such malicious spite.

  1 February 1803

  12 Pluviôse XI

  The Casuarina has failed to arrive when expected and Commander Baudin is out of patience. So, in spite of the sea turning rough we weighed anchor this morning and sailed on our way, leaving Ile Borda and the smaller ship to her good fortune.

  By early afternoon we caught sight of her. As soon as she was in range the Commander ordered our mainsail furled so she would have less trouble keeping up with us. He ordered a favourable tack. But for some reason Casuarina continued heading away under full sail. Once more, we lost sight of her.

  When the Commander refused to give chase, the officer with him disagreed. ‘We ought to keep her in our sights. She is much slower, so is bound to fall behind.’

  The Commander would not change his mind. He gave the order to continue west.

  4 February 1803

  15 Pluviôse XI

  After three days of wind and rain the weather has turned fair, but the poor kangaroos penned on the gangway have been soaked. Some have died.

  The Commander ordered two cabins stripped, those of the citizen botanist and a midshipman. He has relocated seven kangaroos there in the hope they do not perish.

  The midshipman did not take too well to his cabin being used. He stormed into the Great Cabin full of resentment. ‘How dare you expect me to endure such terrible conditions? If only I had gone back to France on the Naturaliste. But you, sir, disallowed me.’

  While the midshipman gave into his temper the Commander remained rigid in his chair and kept writing in his ship’s log, the muscles of his jaw noticeably flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. Without looking up he said, ‘You are right, I should have taken fine care not to stop you. A shame I did not foresee you preferred your own comfort to that of serving your country with honour.’

  I slipped out of the cabin. I wanted to check the condition of the kangaroos for myself. I petted their ears and murmured softly to them, ‘Are you enjoying your new dry home?’ But they refused my offering of white casuarina branches, for they have grown overly fond of Indian corn.

  10 February 1803

  21 Pluviôse XI

  The Commander has brought in two short-tailed possums and two kangaroo rats to be housed in the Great Cabin. Every time I am near I cannot escape their beady sorrowful eyes.

  Since losing sight of Casuarina we have touched upon several places on the western coast of New Holland. Antoine says they have already been charted by earlier navigators.

  17 February 1803

  28 Pluviôse XI

  ‘We could have so easily lost him to the sea,’ Antoine insisted on telling me a hundred times today. He was talking about Citizen Péron, who returned from shore with a story of how he almost drowned.

  ‘He was only in the shallows,’ I scoffed.

  ‘But he is a stranger to the art of swimming. The tide changed and caught him unawares. He was up to his chest in water. If not for the zeal of a brave sailor who guided him through the rising waves, in the deepest places his arm the only support—’

  I cut Antoine off. ‘Well, the Commander is not impressed. He said that for all his supposed courage, Citizen Péron only brought in two cases of broken shells and these were shovelled up from the shallows.’

  ‘He collected much more,’ Antoine protested, ‘Sea toads … and … and those flabby sponges.’

  ‘The Commander said he is all wit but no work. He compared him with you,’ I added slyly, ‘saying you are all work.’

  Antoine scratched his head. ‘Does he think I am witless?’

  ‘He meant it as a compliment, silly dolt,’ I said affectionately, ‘You work hard. You do! Don’t you give tender care to all those plants in their pots? Ain’t you found one hundred and fifty different species?’

  We heard a shout from the lookout and our attention was diverted to a flag placed on the summit of Seal Island. I was relieved to see that Casuarina had made it unharmed to the Commander’s rendezvous point.

  The Commander’s voice boomed across the ship’s deck, ‘Seems Freycinet can follow orders when his own neck is at stake.’ To signal our arrival, he ordered cannon shot. One by the hour continued through the night until a reply of flares finally came back.

  Port of Princ
ess Charlotte

  18 February 1803

  29 Pluviôse XI

  Earlier today, the Commander inspected the Casuarina. He said she looks like she would not have held together at sea for a day longer. He came back unconvinced as to why she sailed in the opposite direction to start with, even though Officer Freycinet blamed him for the separation, saying he made too difficult a tack.

  However, the Commander has put an end to the discord. Both ships are to remain anchored for repairs. There is plentiful water here, so a party has gone off to dig some reservoirs. This means we will be able to wash the linen and hammocks. Huzzah for that! They are also setting up a hospital tent on the beach as we have four sick men on board. The Commander does not count himself, although his wretched bloodstained coughing persists.

  To pass some time while the Commander settled into writing in his ship’s log I sorted through the trinkets kept as gifts for the natives. Without thinking, I started trying on some of the baubles: glass beads, coloured pearls and gilded filigree earrings, pear-shaped ear pendants, expanding bracelets, anklets, and rings for fingers and toes.

  Too late I realised the Commander had laid down his quill and was studying me from across the table. I jumped up. ‘No, no, continue!’ he insisted, ‘There is no harm in pleasurable fancies. You, and Madame Bonaparte, both. On our return she will be able to adorn her rooms with artefacts from your naturels. How do you say? Your natives. Your Indians. You must have some experience of them,’ the Commander prompted. ‘I would be interested in hearing.’

  I could only tell him what I had seen for myself. How they lived their own way, fire-sticking the bushland, having corroborees, dancing around and around kicking up the dust while the campfire lit up their legs. How they could find food in the bush where there appeared to be none. How sometimes they went around naked as newborns or wore possum-skin cloaks, or bits and bobs of town clothes.

  How there had been unrest on both sides, especially since our settlements had begun to drive their people further afield. How they had helped themselves to our eggs but had not been greedy over it. How one even left me a necklace. How Mumma was afraid of them, but since my egg fella came to my rescue, I held no such fears.

  I described how Pemulwuy’s skull had been sent to Sir Joseph Banks. Without realising, I slipped into Bridget’s words about how the Irish and natives’ way of thinking was somewhat alike because we were trying to wrench their lands away in the name of King George, but we could never expect to occupy their souls.

  The Commander was amazed at my outburst. ‘You have the heart of a revolutionary, Mary.’

  I needed some quick thinking. ‘Only what you taught me, sir, with all your talk of égalité and liberté.’

  ‘Aha!’ He seemed thoughtful as he dipped the point of the quill into the inkwell and continued writing in his ship’s log.

  At anchorage in Shark Bay

  17 March 1803

  26 Ventôse XI

  We have arrived at Dirk Hartog Island on the western shoreline of New Holland and the Commander has sent a boat to bring back turtles. Antoine has been telling me about the explorers who visited here many years before. A Dutch navigator, who once nailed a pewter plate to a tree somewhere on the island. His own people, from a time before the revolution, who had buried a land claim in a bottle sealed with a lead cap. As well, two silver coins.

  ‘Lawdy! I wish we could go treasure hunting,’ I said. ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘Citizen Péron told me. He is so learned.’

  ‘Hmm!’ I said peevishly.

  ‘Well, he is!’ Antoine bit back.

  Our chatter ended abruptly with the speedy return of the boat, without any turtles. The crew’s eyes were brimming with fright. A large band of bushy-haired warriors with beards falling to their chests had rushed them uttering loud warring cries and waving their spears and clubs. The savages putting fear into their hearts.

  The Commander saw fit to correct them. ‘You must remind yourselves that people do not always deserve the name “Savage”. Earlier visitors may have treated them badly.’ He sternly insisted the men go back and carry out his order, handing them some glass beads, mirrors, and a snuffbox decorated with a portrait of an African. ‘These trinkets should promote friendliness. But do not return until you have brought back those turtles.’

  Eventually they brought in twelve. The men reported that the natives had stayed out of sight, although their campfire was still burning. They left the gifts for them to find on their return. Our fishermen also brought in a plentiful haul to add to our rations. Since there is no longer enough salt to preserve the fish, another party is to go out tomorrow in the longboat. Mais oui! The longboat has been finished at last. They will set up cauldrons on the beach to boil seawater down to salt.

  Citizens’ Péron, Petit and Antoine are to go ashore as well. Citizen Petit is to draw the natives’ camp. Antoine is to collect plants.

  The Commander ordered the officer-in-command to ensure the party returns by the evening of the second day. ‘We do not want the fish to spoil, which will happen if they are kept unsalted over-long.’ As an afterthought he added, ‘Citizen Péron is prone to devise plans of his own. On no account let him cause another delay.’

  20 March 1803

  29 Ventôse XI

  Eight o’clock in the evening

  Antoine was due back at this hour. The Commander ordered a cannon-shot to be fired, summoning the party’s return.

  Ten o’clock

  Still no sign of Antoine or the others. The Commander ordered a second shot. ‘If this turns out to be formal disobedience of my orders,’ I heard him say furiously, ‘someone will pay dearly.’

  21 March 1803

  30 Ventôse XI

  Early in the morning

  Huzzah! Antoine and the others have returned. Poor Antoine was suffering from such exhaustion. He could barely move. Although I was desperate to find out what happened, the Commander ordered me back to the Great Cabin. I stayed around long enough to discover that the party had found plentiful salt in a saltwater pool that was almost dried up.

  That was before the Commander snapped at me, ‘Mary, do as you are bid!’ Lawdy! The Devil was in him.

  He followed behind me, with the officer-in-command behind him. I wished I were headed somewhere else because I knew there was going to be trouble.

  True enough! The Commander sat at his table, pulled out a sheaf of papers and began firing off questions at the officer. He started to write, his quill scratching across the page like a Cat lashing a bare back.

  When the officer confessed he had collected the salt on the first day yet decided not to return, the Commander threw himself back in his chair and looked to the heavens. ‘Surely you heard the cannon-shots? You are the officer-in-command, man! Are you telling me you knowingly disobeyed my order?’

  The officer shrugged his shoulders. Nothing was his fault. Blame Péron. Petit. Guichenot. ‘How could I know they would wander off?’ he argued. ‘I sent four armed men to search for them, but without success. As luck would have it they eventually found their own way back. What a state they were in! Exhausted. Sunburned. We could only pity them.’

  ‘Pah to pity!’ the Commander scorned, ‘I am fining you trente francs for the two cannon-shots fired for the recall. Summon Péron. Let me hear his feeble excuses.’

  Citizen Péron sent word back that he was in no fit state to give the Commander his account. He could hardly remain standing. He craved rest. In due course he would provide a report.

  This reply did not please the Commander. His voice was thunderous. ‘This is his last escapade! He is the most thoughtless, the most wanting of foresight, of everyone on board! I will not allow him to delay our departure ever again!’

  I slipped out of the cabin intent on finding Antoine. I expected the ship’s doctor to be in attendance, or for him to be resting in his hammock wracked by exhaustion. So I was shocked to find him listening to Citizen Péron, who instead of being
indisposed, was lightheartedly entertaining everyone with the story of how they had all become lost. Oh my, the Commander would be angry when he found this out. Even so, when Antoine beckoned me over, I could not resist staying to hear the tale for myself.

  ‘We walked for hours in the scorching sun collecting curious shells,’ began Citizen Péron. ‘Without fresh water, we could only lay down in the shallows to cool ourselves. Immediately, a monstrous shark attacked. Quick in drawing my pistol, I fired. Guichenot and I dashed out of the water. Of course, Petit made tomfoolery over our fears. What would you expect? He remained up to his knees—’

  Along with the others, I could not help but burst into laughter as Citizen Petit interrupted by bending his stockinged knees and pretending to dance in the water.

  ‘Let me continue!’ Citizen Péron ordered, bidding us all listen. ‘If not for my gunshot scaring the monster back into the deep, we would surely have been taken!’ His voice grew more sombre. ‘The moment we stepped onto the safety of the sand, a band of menacing warriors raced towards us from the dunes. We held our pistols and courageously faced up to them. We had no need to fire. They simply turned their backs on us, beckoning us to follow. We did for a short distance, before returning to load ourselves up with the shells. But on our way back to camp we began to suffer greatly from heatstroke and lost our way.

  ‘The heat became too fierce, our thirst too overwhelming. We resorted to sucking on pebbles to induce saliva. We discarded our jackets and breeches, left behind our shoes. Our only intent was to carry back the load of precious shells. By sunset, when all hope was lost, when we were barely alive, we saw a red glow in the distance. The signal fire guided us back. The rest you know.’