That’s where I finally had a slice of luck – and it was about time. See, I knew if I was caught thievin’ again I could expect to have my neck stretched or, if I was lucky, a life sentence here in New Holland. But when the magistrate saw me, his ruddy face went pale. You see, we recognised one another. The last time I’d seen him was in my room and just like he was in the courtroom, he’d been wearing his wig – the difference was when there was just the two of us, he wore nothin’ else. He liked to pretend I’d been tried in his court and found guilty and he’d invent all sorts of punishments for me you’d never find in any law book. Oh yes, there were many tales I could tell about ‘Your Honour’ (as he liked to be called when playing his games) and I was ready to tell the court all about ‘em – and he knew it. So when it came to passing sentence, he wanted me as far away from him as possible and for as long as possible. But he also knew that the harsher the sentence then the less I had to lose, and the more likely I was to tell of the little games he liked to play – harmless enough, but not what people expect from a magistrate. So that’s why he only sentenced me to seven years’ transportation."
Me and Mary joined in her laughter, but even though she was very drunk, Lolly suddenly became serious.
“I finished my sentence two years ago but I knew I couldn’t go home – there was nothing there for me. At least here I can make enough money to survive; they like to hear me sing ’cos I know all the old songs and they remind ’em of the place they still call home.”
Looking a little sad, she raised her almost empty glass and said, “And some of ’em still buy this stuff for me.”
With a tremendous effort, she stood up and holding on to the edge of the table announced, “And now I’ve got to go because I’ve got a client waiting for me in the bar.”
Meandering to the door, she added, “That’s if he’s still conscious.”
With that, she was gone.
Mary looked at me and said, “I know you, Adie, and I know what you’re thinking. You want to help her. But you can’t – she’s just too far gone. I’ve seen women like her before. A couple more months and the pox will have driven her mad, and in six months she’ll be dead.”
I knew she was right of course, but I thought to myself that there had to be something I could do for Lolly.
Jabez had once given me gin. Though I hadn’t liked it, other than that, the rum we’d drunk that evening was the first strong liquor to have ever passed my lips. It’s certainly true I took to the rum more than I had the gin – unlike the gin, I hadn’t spat it into anyone’s face! In fact, I took to the first mug so well that I’d been more than happy to accept a couple of refills. Mary told me that after Lolly had left, I’d rambled on about the future and what it might hold for her and I hadn’t stopped going on about finding some way to help her ’til long after we’d returned to our room for the night. I think that was also one of the reasons why, when we were back in our bedroom, I’d failed to take in that Mary had stopped unlacing her boots and instead, was staring, unashamedly, straight at me as I undressed.
When I’d stripped to my undergarments, I was more than glad to clamber into bed. But as I lay down the room began to spin, the feeling of spinning getting worse when I shut my eyes. The only way I managed to hold the room still was by turning on my side and holding on tightly to the edge of the bed. With the room held steady, the effects of the rum and tiredness at the end of a long day (but especially the effects of rum!), meant I was ready for sleep when Mary slid into the bed beside me and I’d nearly drifted off when she spoke softly into the nape of my neck. Intimately close, she breathed,
“I liked your hair more when it was long. Perhaps you’ll grow it again.”
As she gently laid her hand on my hip I wondered why, in all the months we’d been chained together, she hadn’t ever said anything about my hair.
I didn’t ask her why. Instead, I lay still and hoped she’d believe I was already asleep, but she gently increased the pressure on my hip and I realised she sensed I was still awake. I had seen women together in the Factory and been unsure of how it made me feel and though I was still unsure, I knew I really didn’t want to resist Mary. So, although I also knew it would start the room spinning again, I let go of the side of the bed and turned over onto my back. When I opened my eyes, Mary, who was already on her belly, raised herself on her elbows, leant over me and kissed my forehead. But because, as soon as I’d open my eyes the room had spun faster, by the time her feather light kisses had travelled down from my brow, over my nose and mouth to my chin and returned to my mouth, becoming firmer as she pressed my lips to part, I was forced to tear myself away from her.
I wasn’t rejecting her kisses, but an even stronger force was overwhelming me. Struggling to my feet, I stumbled through the dark to the windowsill where I remembered I’d left the empty washbasin. I reached it just in time and, leaning over, was very, very sick. Though I earnestly promised God I’d never again drink gin or rum, a promise I may add I’ve kept ever since, I continued to be sick until my stomach was completely empty. Even then I retched several more times before my stomach settled and, drained to the core, I was able to feel my way back to bed.
We’ve laughed about that night many times and Mary, who always swears I was asleep before I got back into bed, says she knew there was no point in trying to wake me again. I have to admit I have no memory of anything from when I reached the edge of the bed until the next morning, when I awoke with my head feeling like someone had driven a six-inch nail from the centre of my forehead to the back of my skull. To add to my discomfort, I also had a dry throat and a desperate thirst. Silently re-making my vow of the previous night, I bravely opened my eyes and, flinching in the early morning light, was startled by Mary who, fully dressed, was sat on the bed holding a mug.
“I’ve been down and got a jug of water so I could wash out that basin. I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to face that job this morning.” Smiling, she added, “I saved you this in case you were thirsty.”
She held out the mug and I gratefully drained it. Handing it back, although I could gladly have laid back down again and slept until noon, I forced myself to get up and start getting dressed – as I told Mary, if we were to get to Morpeth in one day, we needed to set off soon and we still had to find two horses to get us there. Of course, I had another reason for wanting to get out of that room in a hurry. I might have had only misty memories of the night before, but I knew I definitely didn’t feel in a fit state to discuss them.
Going downstairs, my head thumping with each step, I went through to the bar and spoke to the landlord, leaving Mary talking to his daughter.
A pound, that’s what the landlord demanded – he’d accept nothing less. But for that, as well as accepting it as payment for our night’s stay, he agreed that when she could no longer work he would look after Lolly, feed her and provide her with a roof over her head. However, he told me, she’d still have to go to the asylum if the madness really took a hold of her. I knew that’s how it had to be. So satisfied I’d done the best I could for Lolly, I asked him where I might buy two good horses. It came as no surprise when he told me he had a couple he could sell me if I cared to come out the back to the stable to have a look at them. Of course he wanted top price for them, but to be honest, they were fine mares and I knew they should get us to Morpeth in one day, as long as we got on our way soon.
I paid him what he asked and then went and found Mary. After I told her about the mares, without a word she picked up her bag and we went out the front of the inn to where the landlord was holding the already saddled horses. We mounted a little hesitantly, as neither of us had much riding experience, but soon enough we had waved goodbye to the landlord and were heading, at a steady pace, in the direction of Morpeth. As we didn’t have a map, we took the landlord’s advice and stuck as closely as we could to the coast until we reached Newcastle. From there, he told us, we should pick up the Hunter River and follow it inland.
The journey
passed with only one incident before we reached our destination, and that was of our own making. Our horses were sound and even though we rested and watered them every couple of hours, we still managed a steady trot for most of the day. Creeks and rivers sometimes forced us inland, but many were dry or almost dry, so we were often able to cut straight across them. For long distances, the coast was edged with sandy beach and sometimes the simplest way forward was to drop down from the cliffs and let the horses cool their hooves in the sea where it lapped the shore.
The first time we’d reached the water’s edge, Mary’s mare had hesitated. It was clearly a new experience for her, but because mine barely broke stride as the water reached her knees, Mary’s needed little further encouragement to follow. They were soon striding along side by side and in fact, without being pressed, both horses were moving markedly faster and it took little to spur them into a full gallop.
We must have travelled the best part of five miles in the water, by which time Mary was riding a few yards ahead of me, when it hit me and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Hauling my horse to a slow trot and cursing myself for my own stupidity, I headed for the dry sand. By the time Mary had noticed she was riding alone and managed to turn her horse around to follow me, I had dismounted and was already walking towards a boulder big enough to hide me from prying eyes.
“What you doin’?” Mary panted. “Why d’you stop so suddenly an’ wivout sayin’ nothin’?”
I didn’t reply. I just kept walking to the boulder and still muttering to herself, Mary dismounted and followed me. Reaching the rock, I was pleased to find I’d guessed right, because I was able to walk the mare into the narrow gap between the boulder and the cliffs without any difficulty. Although, apart from us the beach was deserted, I wanted to be doubly sure we weren’t seen by any prying eyes. As it turned out, the spot was perfect, we were too close to the cliff to be seen from above, we were hidden completely from the sea and we would see anyone on the beach long before they saw us. It was only then that I untied Mary’s bag from the saddle. I took out all of her possessions, noticing that whilst the few items of clothes I took out first were very wet, all the rest were, by degrees, dryer and dryer. Finally, I gingerly picked up the money which we had hidden at the bottom of the bag. Mary had realised my concern when I took down the bag and now was equally anxious to see how much damage the seawater had done to the money. To our relief, although most of the money was damp, only the notes nearest the bottom were actually wet and these I carefully peeled away from the rest and laid on stones to dry. We decided to stop where we were and rest the horses. We also shared the last of our fresh water with them and though we had no food for them or us, at least the space between the rock and the bolder provided all four of us with some shade.
After about half an hour, the money was dry and Mary’s clothes, which we’d also laid out, were no worse than damp. So we wrapped the money in the clothes, repacked the now almost dry bag and set off again towards Newcastle.
Reaching Newcastle late in the afternoon and knowing we were pressed for time, we were glad we found the Hunter River quickly and could head inland.
We arrived in Morpeth just as the sun was disappearing behind the hills that had lined the horizon for most of our journey. Complete darkness fell shortly afterwards and realising we would be unlikely to find Lieutenant Granger until the morning, we decided to try and find somewhere to spend the night.
The town seemed to be little more than a single road, sparsely lined with a range of small, roughly built buildings, almost all lying in darkness. However there was one building, sat about halfway along the road, that seemed different from the rest. Even from the end of the road, we could see light escaping from around the front door, and as we got closer, we could also see there was a second floor. When we were just a few yards away, we could hear the murmur of men’s voices and on reaching the front door, we saw, almost hidden by the shadows, a handwritten sign declaring ‘rum’ and beneath it ‘beds’. I looked at Mary and she shrugged – we both knew we weren’t likely to find anywhere better.
We dismounted and Mary tethered the horses while I took the money from her bag, and after taking a guinea from it and hiding the rest beneath my chemise, I took a deep breath and led the way inside. There were six tables with two or three men sat at each one and as we entered all conversation stopped, every man turning to stare at us. There was a small hatch which served as a bar and where a bored landlord lounged. So ignoring the stares, Mary walked straight up to the him and said,
“We need some beds for the night and some food. We also need somewhere safe to keep our ’orses – they’re gonna need food and water as well.”
The landlord still looked bored, but at least he was standing up now.
“I’ll need to see the money first.”
That was all he said and so, annoyed because although we were offering business he couldn’t have expected he still appeared disinterested, I moved up next to Mary and said,
“And we’ll need to know how much you’re asking.”
He might have been bored, but he didn’t intend to miss a chance to make a bob or two.
“It’ll be a shilling for each of you two and two n’ tuppence for the horses.”
It sounded a bit steep, but I wanted to get out of that bar as quickly as I could and I was sure Mary felt the same, so I handed him the guinea I was holding and while he got my change, I told him we’d take supper in our room. I wished I’d had something smaller than a guinea to give him, because he made a great show of counting out my change.
“I’ll get the lad to bring your food up once he’s seen to the mares. Don’t expect too much, I’m usually only asked for rum and a bed.”
The ‘lad’ appeared from somewhere out the back and took us to our room which, apart from two cots, was dark and empty. He lit us a candle he was carrying and said he would be straight back with our supper. Holding up the lit candle, I could look round the room properly. Built like a lean-to, through gaps in the paperbark walls, I could see it was supported on three sides by other rooms made much the same way. The fourth side was the only one that faced the weather and the elements had shrunk and twisted each timber, so now the wall provided little protection and I could quite easily see the street through the gaps. I looked at Mary, expecting her to say something about the wall, but she was looking the other way, studying the door. I couldn’t see why, but whatever the reason the wall had to be a more pressing problem, especially if the distant sound of thunder we’d heard as we left the parlour was an early warning that rain was coming. So I asked her,
“What are you looking at, Mary? Didn’t you hear that thunder? If it means rains coming, this wall will never keep us dry.”
She must have heard the irritation in my voice, but her reply was just as terse.
“It’s not any rain we need to worry about. What I want to know is what we’re gonna do when they break in, ‘cos that landlord made sure they all saw ’im give you change for that guinea an’ I bet they’re gonna come lookin’ for it, and anything else we might ‘ave. An’ I bet they ain’t gonna be polite about it, niever.”
Before I could answer, the lad returned holding two plates. On each plate, there was a little bread but this was dwarfed by a pile of cold lamb. Mary took the plates and, after handing them to me, went to work on the boy.
“So, ‘ave you got a name then, lad? It wouldn’t feel right. You ’avin’ been so nice to us ’en all, not to at least know that much about you.”
As she spoke, she lightly touched his arm and then, looking into his eyes, gave him what she told me after, was her most winning smile."
The boy’s face reddened to the roots as he stuttered,
“D-D-D…Daniel.”
“Well, Daniel, both me an’ Adie ’ere, are grateful for ’ow you’ve treated us and Adie’s got a bob for you, ain’t you Adie?”
She turned and looked at me and though I thought giving him a penny was more than enough, I put the change
the landlord had given me on one of the cots and quickly found a shilling and passed it to her. Taking hold of his hand which, if it was possible turned him an even deeper shade of red, she placed the coin in his palm and closed his fingers over it. After lightly patting his hand, she slowly released it. He was now looking as if he might burst and at once I understood why Simon Peters had become so besotted with her. Like Simon Peters and probably Tom before him and as I was yet to realise, me, she now had Daniel eating out of her hand.
“But I need you to do one more thing for me and if you do it, then there’s another sixpence in it for you.”
Unfolding his fingers, he stared at the shilling, the look of surprise on his face enough to make me wonder if he’d ever held one of his own before – I was certain he’d never before earned one so easily – but I had to object when I heard how easily he could earn another sixpence. Daniel nodded his head and staring at the floor, mumbled,
“’Course I will, but you’ve paid me enough already. I don’t want no more.”
Mary knew she had won his heart and there was no need to flirt anymore, so she said,
“All I want you to do when you go back downstairs is to just keep your eyes and ears open.”
It was then I tried to object but Mary raised her hand. She didn’t even look at me,
“Wait, Adie. I’ll explain in a minute.” She returned her attention to Daniel. “And if you hear anyone say anythin’ that might mean they plan to rob us, first chance you get I want you to come up ‘ere an’ tell us. Would you be able to do that?”
“Course I will. It should be easy ’cos I’m working in the bar tonight and I’ll hear if anyone says anything like that.” Then with a look of panic, he said, “I must go now. They’ll be wondering why I’m taking so long – he doesn’t like me talking to his customers any more than I have to.”
With that, he turned and started to return to the bar, but Mary called him back and in barely more than a whisper, said,
“Just one more question. If we needed it, can you get ’old of a ladder?”
Admonition Page 38