Scatterheart

by Lili Wilkinson

  Long Meg wagged a finger at Hannah. ‘So now you knows, that you should never, never–’ she looked confused. ‘Never pretend to be a piggy. Unless you is drunk.’ She nodded firmly, and then her eyes rolled up in her head, and she passed out on her bed.

  Hannah breathed a great sigh of relief, and lay down on her own bed. But she had barely closed her eyes, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was James.

  ‘What are–’

  ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘You’ll wake the other women. It’s stopped raining. Come upstairs.’

  Hannah climbed out of bed, grateful for the first time that the convict women had to sleep in their day-clothes.

  ‘Wait.’ It was Long Meg, still half-asleep, and still very drunk. She reached out and grabbed Hannah’s arm.

  ‘You should be careful,’ she said, slurring. ‘You is only small, and very, very stupid. The lieutenant is used to getting his way. You don’ want to make him angry. Trust me.’

  She let go of Hannah, and began to snore. Hannah glanced at James, but he was already halfway down the corridor. She hurried after him.

  On deck, stars glittered overhead in the night sky. It was the first time Hannah had seen the stars in months. They were so rarely visible through the London fog, and the convicts were normally not allowed on deck after sunset. Hannah wondered if she would get in trouble, but remembered she was with the ship’s second-in-command.

  They made their way up to the forecastle. The wood was still wet and slippery. James shrugged off his jacket, and laid it down on the wet boards. Hannah stepped forward, assuming it was for her to sit on, but James sat down on it himself. He reached into a pocket and drew out a hip flask. He unscrewed the lid, offering it to Hannah. She shook her head, and sat down next to him.

  James chuckled and took a swig. ‘You didn’t join in on your friend’s party tonight, then?’

  Hannah looked at him. ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘She broke into the officers’ wine supply,’ said James. ‘Ullathorne found an entire hogshead of empty bottles in the hold. He’s calling for her to be flogged.’

  ‘Will she?’

  James grinned. ‘No, but we’ve got a bit of a surprise for her tomorrow.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  James said nothing, but his eyes stayed bright. He looked up at the stars, and pointed.

  ‘See Orion?’

  Hannah followed his gaze, and tried to make out the shape of the hunter.

  James moved his gaze down near the horizon. ‘And that’s the Great Bear, do you see?’

  Hannah squinted. ‘I can’t see it.’

  ‘Look,’ said James, moving closer to her. He bent his head close to hers so he could follow Hannah’s eyeline with his pointing finger. He smelled of whisky, a smell that reminded Hannah of her father. ‘He’s walking over there, and his head is turned towards us. Those three stars there are his tail.’

  ‘Her tail,’ said Hannah, remembering something Thomas had once told her. ‘It’s a she-bear. It’s Callisto.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Callisto. She was a nymph. Zeus fell in love with her, and seduced her. They had a son called Arcas. Zeus’s wife was so angry she turned Callisto into a bear. Arcas nearly killed her in a hunt, but Zeus put them both into the sky as the Great Bear and the Little Bear.’

  James raised an eyebrow. ‘How do you know so much about the stars?’

  Hannah smiled. ‘Thomas taught me. He liked the stories.’

  ‘Who’s Thomas?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘My tutor.’

  ‘A tutor taught you astrology? I’m surprised your father permitted it.’

  ‘He didn’t,’ said Hannah. ‘Thomas was … he was let go.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said James. ‘No man wants his daughter to become a bluestocking.’

  ‘Knowing stories about bears hardly makes me a bluestocking,’ said Hannah.

  James shrugged. ‘That’s the Little Bear over there,’ he pointed. ‘But I don’t think it looks much like a bear. The tail is too long.’

  Hannah smiled. ‘Thomas always used to say he had a long tail because he had been spinning around the North Pole, by his tail, for thousands of years.’

  ‘Your Thomas has all the answers, doesn’t he?’ said James.

  Hannah’s smile faded, and she watched the stars spinning slowly above them.

  ‘No,’ she said, after a moment. ‘He didn’t have all the answers. He thought he did, but he didn’t.’

  Hannah thought of Thomas’s white bear. She sighed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked James.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Hannah. ‘Just remembering another story.’

  James took another swig from the hip-flask. ‘I’ve had enough stories for one night.’ He looked at her, his head on one side. ‘I’d like to see you in some proper clothes,’ he said. ‘Muslin. Pale pink. Perhaps some lace.’

  ‘My favourite dress was pink muslin,’ said Hannah.

  ‘And I’m sure you looked beautiful in it.’

  ‘You always look beautiful,’ said Hannah without thinking. Her cheeks burned. ‘I … I should go,’ she said, climbing to her feet. ‘It’s late.’

  She hurried over to the stairs.

  ‘Hannah,’ called James.

  Hannah turned, very aware of the wet patch on the back of her dress where she had been sitting on the damp wood.

  James was smiling. His teeth seemed so white in the darkness. ‘Sweet dreams.’

  The next day it was cloudy, but it stayed dry. The convict women poured onto the upper deck, desperate to breathe fresh air.

  Leaning against the railing, Hannah told Meg about her evening with James and what a gentleman he had been. Molly loitered a few steps away – she had taken to following Meg around like a puppy.

  Long Meg snorted. ‘If he was a gentleman he would of given you his coat to sit on,’ she said. ‘You isn’t doing yourself no favours, flirtin’ with the pretty-boy lieutenant. They is all the same. We women should stick together.’

  ‘That’s rich, coming from you,’ said Hannah. ‘You spend every night in a different sailor’s hammock.’

  Molly giggled, and Hannah glared at her.

  ‘That’s different,’ said Meg. ‘That’s for money, and grog, and protection.’

  Hannah shrugged. ‘Well maybe that’s what I’m doing too, but just in a more ladylike manner.’

  ‘Ladylike? Now who’s callin’ the kettle black-arse? There ain’t nothin’ ladylike about what you’re doin’. You is like a bitch on heat makin’ doe eyes at him. You is fallin’ in love with the pretty-boy, and no good will come of it.’

  ‘What if I am?’ asked Hannah angrily, then turned away, surprised at herself. Was she falling in love with James?

  Long Meg spun Hannah around to face her. ‘Be careful, missy. Be very careful. He’s dangerous.’

  Hannah brushed Long Meg away.

  ‘He is a gentleman. We are both people of Quality. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘If there’s one thing I can say for sure,’ said Long Meg, ‘it’s that Lieutenant James Belforte is no gentleman.’

  ‘How would you know?’ said Hannah.

  ‘Well, for starters, his name ain’t really ‘Belforte’. It’s ‘Buffet’. And his daddy ain’t no gentleman. He’s as common as I is. Made his fortune in buttons.’

  Hannah blinked. James wasn’t Quality? He seemed such a gentleman.

  ‘But that ain’t got nothin’ to do with why he ain’t a gentleman,’ Long Meg said, turning and walking away. Molly trotted after her, casting a superior look back at Hannah as she linked her arm through Long Meg’s.

  Hannah sat fuming. Meg was talking to Jemmy Griffin. The cheeky look on her face, and the shrill giggles of Molly, left Hannah in no doubt as to what their subject of conversation was. Love? Long Meg knew nothing of love. She only knew about self-interest. She looked up at the quarterdeck, where Dr Ullathorne was watching Meg like a hawk. It looked like she w
ould be sent down to the brig again. Hannah sighed and looked back at the heaving, rolling ocean.

  A raucous squawk made her turn around again. Long Meg had abandoned her sailor for a midshipman. She was hurling forth a blazing string of insults about his appearance, his mother, and his sexual activities. Hannah glanced up to the doctor, waiting for Long Meg to be dragged away. But Dr Ullathorne stood unmoving, watching Meg with a slight smirk on his face. The midshipman was ignoring her. Hannah remembered that James had mentioned a surprise, and looked around for him. He was nowhere to be seen.

  Frustrated that her invective wasn’t having any effect, Long Meg moved on to another officer. The same thing happened. Finally, she marched over to the ladder to the quarterdeck. Molly shoved a fist in her mouth and hovered at the bottom of the ladder. Hannah held her breath. She had seen sailors flogged for being on the quarterdeck without permission. Meg climbed the ladder, and found herself face-to-face with Captain Gartside.

  Hannah couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the occasional word drifted over the ship to her. Common as muck … mother had the clap. By now, the convict women, sailors and officers were all watching the show. Molly was jumping up and down with excitement.

  Captain Gartside nodded absently to Long Meg, and wandered off to talk to the bosun. Meg stood, shocked at his bland indifference. Hannah saw Dr Ullathorne nod to someone and then James and another officer appeared from behind the ship’s wheel. Between them they carried a wooden barrel, with holes cut in the top and sides. They sprang forward, and forced the barrel over Long Meg’s head. Her head came out of the top hole, and her arms poked out the side holes, like she was wearing a great round wooden tunic.

  The sailors all laughed. Meg turned to them, as awkward as a turtle on land. They laughed again. Hannah saw Captain Gartside frown. Meg grinned at the sailors, and did a little dance. The convict women cheered. Molly squealed with delight. Hannah looked at James, who was grinning.

  ‘Do you like me new frock?’ said Long Meg. ‘I think it most elegant.’

  ‘Elegant indeed,’ said James. ‘For a tortoise!’

  ‘A tortoise?’ said Long Meg. ‘Then you’d better listen carefully, because we all knows what we learns from a tortoise.’

  ‘What?’ asked James.

  ‘At school,’ said Meg. ‘A tortoise taught-us!’

  Everyone laughed. ‘Tell us another joke!’

  ‘A joke?’ said Long Meg. ‘Well then. How about this one?’

  She cocked her head on one side, thinking. ‘There was a fellow walkin’ through a forest, and he was mightily famished. He comes to an Inn, called “George and the Dragon”. He knocks on the door,’ – here Meg rapped her knuckles on the barrel – ‘and the innkeeper’s wifey sticks her head out the window. The fellow asks for some vittles, and wifey shouts “No!”. The fellow asks for a pint of ale, and wifey shouts “No!”. Then the fellow asks to use the privy, and wifey shouts “No!” again. “Well,” says the fellow, “do you think I might–” but wifey screeches “What now?” before he can finish. “Do you suppose,” says the fellow, “that I might now have a word with George?”’

  The sailors and the convict women laughed uproariously and applauded. Dr Ullathorne moved back into the crowd – he was standing a few paces forward of Hannah, and to her left. She could not see his face. Hannah looked over at Captain Gartside again, who was watching Long Meg with a strange expression on his face. Was it pity?

  ‘What next, old tortoise?’ asked Hopping Giles, a sailor with a thick black beard and a limp.

  ‘A distinguished old tortoise like meself needs a hat!’ cried Meg.

  A battered old top hat was found, and placed on Long Meg’s head. Meg winked at Molly.

  ‘Me pipe!’ she cried. ‘Where is me pipe?’

  Molly went scurrying off, giggling, and returned presently with a clay pipe. Long Meg gestured to her, and Molly, glancing nervously at the officers, climbed the steps to the quarterdeck and put the pipe in Meg’s mouth. The doctor had turned and Hannah saw his face, half-averted. But he wasn’t watching Meg, he was looking at Molly. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time. Molly scurried back down the ladder, her good eye wide with excitement, and one fist stuffed in her mouth. One of the officers had produced a light, and Meg strutted up and down on the deck, puffing out great clouds of smoke.

  ‘Oh, I say,’ she said. ‘This is an absolutely corking boat, you know. A real ripper! A fine and distinguished tortoise like myself could really make himself at home here.’

  ‘Dance, tortoise!’ said Jemmy Griffin. ‘Dance for us!’

  The tortoise shook its head. ‘Oh, I really don’t know, old fellow. It doesn’t seem very dignified thing for a distinguished gentleman tortoise to do.’

  ‘Dance!’ roared Hopping Giles. ‘Or we’ll put you in a pot and have tortoise soup for dinner.’

  The tortoise let out a frightened whoop, and made a little jump into the air. The crowd laughed. The tortoise began to dance slowly and ponderously.

  A sailor in a top hat who Hannah learned was called Tam Chaunter produced a fiddle, and began to play a lively jig. The tortoise began to dance more frantically, bobbing up and down and moving its little legs back and forth. The assembled crew and convicts cheered and clapped, and Long Meg grinned. But Hannah noticed sweat on Meg’s brow.

  Tam Chaunter finished his song, and started another. The sailors and women stamped their feet in time to the music, and the tortoise spun and cavorted before them.

  When the second song had finished, one of the officers said something to the bosun, who blew his whistle shrilly. The sailors groaned, but returned to their work. Captain Gartside turned and made his way back into his office.

  Sailors came out and distributed holystones to the convict women, and set them to clean the decks. Hannah took hers, and got down on her hands and knees. She looked up at Long Meg, who was making her way down the quarterdeck ladder with some difficulty. When she reached the bottom, Long Meg was panting and sweating. She tried to sit down to catch her breath, but the barrel was too awkward.

  She crouched sullenly by the main capstan, until one particularly strong roll of ocean sent the ship leaning to one side, and she lost her balance. She fell heavily onto the wooden deck with a grunt. The barrel caught the movement of the ship, and rolled over to the other side of the deck, taking Long Meg with it. The sailors all laughed again, but there were tears in Long Meg’s eyes.

  The ship heaved again, and Meg rolled back the other way, only narrowly avoiding tumbling down the steps to the lower deck. She tried to scramble to her feet, but the barrel was too large and heavy. She waved her arms and legs about pitifully.

  ‘Help me, you nazy morts!’ she hissed to the other convict women. ‘Help me or I swear I’ll stick a darnin’ needle in your eye while you sleep!’

  James was watching them from the quarterdeck.

  ‘You trumpery, wrinkle-bellied pack of hedge-whores!’ said Meg, her voice choking with tears.

  The other women looked at their feet and pretended not to notice that Long Meg was crying.

  ‘Come on, lasses,’ said Cathy.

  The women slunk away, avoiding Long Meg’s angry gaze.

  Hannah bit her lip, and then stepped forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James shake his head.

  Hannah bent down and grabbed Long Meg’s arm. Meg stumbled to her feet and grabbed the edge of a gunport to stop from falling over.

  ‘Get out of here,’ she said to Hannah through clenched teeth.

  ‘What?’ said Hannah, surprised. She had thought she was helping Meg.

  ‘You’ll just get into more strife,’ said Meg. ‘Go.’

  By nightfall, Meg was begging to be released, and promised sobriety and good behaviour for the rest of the voyage. The barrel was removed.

  When she came down to their sleeping quarters, Hannah was shocked. Long Meg was covered in enormous purple welts and bruises from the hard wooden barrel.

  As she
walked past Cathy’s bunk, Meg spat onto the ground. ‘Tratler,’ she said, under her breath.

  ‘See?’ she told Hannah, wincing as she lay wearily down on her bed. ‘The officers is the enemy. They hates us just as much as we hates them. Even your pretty-boy lieutenant.’

  Hannah remembered James’s expression as he forced the barrel over Long Meg’s head.

  fourteen

  ‘I know nothing about your father or his house,’ said the glass-woman, ‘except that you’ll get there too late or never. But take this silver acorn, and ask my neighbour on the next cliff.’

  ***

  Hannah dreamed she was back at home. She and Thomas were putting together a jigsaw map of the world. They were in a silly mood, telling jokes and laughing.

  ‘This piece looks a bit like a cow,’ said Thomas, holding up Poland.

  ‘Or Mr Burchill, with his long whiskers,’ said Hannah.

  She found Africa, and snapped it into place underneath Europe. North and South America came next, then China and Russia. Hannah frowned. There were no pieces left.

  ‘There’s some missing,’ she said. ‘There’s a great big hole in the bottom right-hand corner, under Asia.’

  Thomas shrugged. ‘There aren’t any pieces for that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘We don’t know what it looks like.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Hannah. ‘There’s a colony there. I’ve read articles.’

  Thomas shook his head. ‘Just fairy tales. Nobody knows what’s there.’

  Hannah looked at the ragged gap in the puzzle. She was sure she knew what was meant to go there.

  ‘What’s it called?’ she asked. ‘That bit.’

  ‘Parts Beyond the Seas,’ said Thomas.

  Hannah closed her eyes, trying to remember. That was wrong, that wasn’t what it was called.

  ‘I thought it was called something else,’ she said.

  ‘Oh it is,’ said Thomas. ‘Some people call it east o’ the sun, west o’ the moon. It’s the same thing.’