‘You must love the sea,’ she said pointedly.
‘Yes, I do but ...’ Daniel gave her a searching glance. ‘Some day — soon I hope — I’ll settle down and maybe go on the land, find a good woman—’
‘I was born and bred on a farm.’ Hannah interrupted, ‘a life time ago.’
‘Ah, there you go.’ He laughed. ‘A couple of ready-made farmers we are.’
They walked along the foreshore chatting and smiling at each other, treading the well-worn path to the Commissariat Store. She told him more about it when he said it was a very fine building. ‘It was only finished last year.’
‘Oh, listen,’ he exclaimed, startled. ‘What’s that sound? It’s like a mad woman.’
Hannah laughed. She pointed up into the canopy of a eucalyptus tree. ‘Look up there. Can you see? Near that twisted branch on top? There’s your mad woman, Daniel Clarke.’
Daniel dropped the sea bag to better follow the direction of her hand. He loomed close, his hand supporting hers as they looked. She felt a tingle of excitement as their fingers touched. ‘Yes, Hannah,’ he said. ‘Now I see it. It’s a big bird.’
‘It’s a laughing bird. They call it by an Aboriginal name kookaburra.’
‘Well, I never saw a bird like that.’ Daniel shook his head. ‘This is a strange country, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘It is certainly different to old England.’
They walked along, comfortable with each other, down to the town. A chain gang shuffled ahead of them, moving west, heading for the stone quarries, prominent C’s on the back of their yellow shirts. They paused, making no comment, only the soldiers making eye contact as the gang passed. ‘They’re the ones they can’t break or . . .’ She looked closely to observe his reaction. ‘The ones they’ve already broken.’ He nodded, reflective, watching them go.
They came to the stone bridge and paused to look into the clear water. ‘It’s called the Tank stream,’ Hannah told him, watching his pleasant tanned face follow her every word. ‘It’s our fresh water, ‘she added, ‘and the shop people use it too.’
They entered the town and she stopped in front of Sedgeways, the milliners. ‘I’ll have to leave you now.’ She smiled at him and suddenly felt like a young girl on her first meet with a lad. ‘It is time for lady business, you know, bonnets and ribbons—’
‘Hannah,’ he blurted. ‘Listen to me. I want to see you again.’ He shuffled his feet, unsure of her reaction. ‘If you are free later, perhaps we could . . .’
‘No, I’ll be working.’ She watched his face fall. ‘But . . .’ She smiled at his hopeful expression, ‘I usually walk up to the point every morning when I’m not working and I won’t be working tomorrow,’ she added pointedly.
‘Gee, that’s great, Hannah, just great. I’ll be down there tomorrow. Oh, yes.’ In his excitement, he hoisted the sea bag back over his shoulder, almost clobbering a matronly-looking woman behind him. ‘Hey, watch it, sailor,’ she shouted, eyeing him with some amusement. ‘Keep your mind on the job and not on the lassies.’
‘I’m very sorry, ma’am.’ Daniel touched his cap and moved to allow the matron to enter the store. He looked at Hannah and they laughed in unison. He couldn’t believe his luck, he thought. I’ve found her, the woman I hadn’t forgotten all these years.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then,’ she said, ‘Mister dangerous Dan.’
‘Aye, that you will, and I thank you, lassie.’ Smiling broadly, he moved away down George Street and she stood in the doorway of Sedgeways watching him until he turned to wave before vanishing into the crowd. He liked her — that was obvious — and she realized, with some surprise, that she liked him too. He was fun to be with and she thought he was a good, kind man but then he was a sailor and they had a girl in every port so the saying went. But then again he’d remembered her name all this time from that horrible selection process. Was he honest about being saddened that day? She shook her head, doubt returning. She wondered if he regarded her as just another notch on his belt, as just another souvenir of Sydney Town. If so, he was in for a rude awakening. She wanted more than a quick lay. She wanted marriage, security and children. Was it too much to ask for, after the years of unhappiness she’d been through?
They met every day they could through the rest of January and the first two weeks of February, walking hand in hand mostly down to Dawes Point but sometimes taking longer walks following the shore line around to Bennelong Point where they would sit quietly side by side, watch the sea traffic on the harbour and talk. Daniel would hold her hand, not interrupting as she told him everything about her past, holding nothing back, breathless and emphatic as if to purge herself forever of her guilt and all the bad memories. Occasionally, as she spoke, he would reach up with tenderness and tuck a roving brown tendril back under her bonnet or press more firmly on her fingers to demonstrate his silent support.
Hannah was contented, exhilarated, with the unburdening of her soul to him. It was as if she had wiped the slate clean. She felt reborn. Now, she wanted, no she needed to know all about him, this sailor who had entered her world and cast his spell over a convict woman. She prompted him and, reluctantly at first but warming to the subject, he described his early childhood in Bristol, the arguments and violence within the family initiated by his seaman father and how he had escaped to run away to sea at sixteen to put it all behind him and see the world. ‘I am just like you, Hannah,’ he summarized. ‘I have nothing back home to go back to. My future is here in this land, for better or worse.’ He looked keenly into her eyes and clasped both her hands in his. ‘Look, Hannah, I have made up my mind. I would give up the sea and make a life here in this place if you . . .’ He paused to look out over the blue water, gathering his thoughts. ‘If only you would marry me. Would you?’
‘You’d give up the sea, the life that you love?’ She was excited, buoyant at his news, but she had to be sure. ‘Daniel, I don’t know if―’
‘Listen to me. I love you more than the sea. That’s just the way it is.’ He emphasized every word. ‘I have never been so sure about anything before.’
‘Daniel, I thank you but there is so much to consider. I have a two year old daughter—’
‘I love Charlotte. I would bring her up as my own daughter. Is there anything else?’
‘Yes. There is. I’m a convict, one of the lowest class and you are a free setter. Are you prepared to consider the social consequences? We could be shunned wherever we go.’
‘Hannah, my dear girl, you are a worrier.’ He tilted up her chin and kissed her softly on the mouth. ‘You’d be my wife and I’d be so proud of you. You know what would be so good?’
‘What?’ She asked, clinging to him.
‘Building our family together, our very own children, and we’ll be the First Family of Clarkes in this new land.’ He swung her around in a circle until they were both giddy. ‘Now, tell me,’ he demanded, setting her back on her feet. ‘What do you say?’
She looked at him for a long minute, her lips trembling. Could it really be true? ‘Yes, Daniel, I will marry you.’
He kissed her passionately and she responded, hungry mouths seeking each other, welcoming the desire that enveloped them. He whispered into the depths of her hair. ‘We could start the First Family tonight.’
‘What?’ Hannah stepped back and appraised him.
‘Making our children,’ he said, coolly returning her gaze. ‘It’ll give me something to remember once I’m at sea, won’t it?’ He grinned but his eyes held hers, steady, analyzing.
Hannah couldn’t help laughing. ‘God, you’ve got a nerve, mister. You’ll be gone five months in that whaler of yours and you want me to be barefoot and pregnant again before we’re married. No way, thank you. We’re engaged. Let’s keep it that way until you get back.’ She took his hand, eyes suddenly misting. She did so want to please him. ‘Can you wait, dear Daniel? I do love you but I want our marriage to be special, after all I’ve been through. Can you see what I mean? Can y
ou understand?’
‘God, woman, you make it hard for a red-blooded man like me. When I get back we’ll—’
‘What?’ She asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.
‘You’ll see.’ He caught her around the waist and swung her close to his hard body, cupping her face and kissing her again and again.
Together they walked back to the town and stood outside the hospital entrance unwilling to say goodbye. Silently, they watched the hustle and bustle as patients and nurses in stiff white veils and starched dresses hurried by.
‘What time are you leaving?’ Hannah asked.
‘We leave at the turn of the tide which is about six o’clock in the morn. Captain Mathieson likes to get away early in the day.’
‘I’ll be there,’ she said and he didn’t doubt it. He was beginning to understand and appreciate that what Hannah Stanley said was precisely what Hannah Stanley meant.
‘I’ll see you then.’ He released her hand.
‘Yes, until tomorrow.’
He kissed her gently on the lips. ‘Bye, my love,’ he said softly and walked away.
Hannah watched him for a moment before turning and entering the hospital. She nodded at a fellow nursing aide and made her way to the office. She had to ask the matron could she start late tomorrow morning and work extra in the evening. Fronting the elderly, gruff matron was an arduous task even at the best of times. An emancipist ― she’d been transported for fraud so they say and served her time — she regarded serving convicts with disfavor, even those with a TOL and was generally inflexible when it came to variation of allocated duties. Still, she’d made up her mind. She’d be on the wharf at six, irrespective of permission or not.
They were still tying down stores on the deck when Hannah arrived, although the gangway was removed, ready for departure. Sailors raced up and down the ropes on the side — shrouds, Daniel called them — making seemingly minor alterations to the sails that were billowing already, she noted. At the wheel, she noted a tall, distinguished-looking man with a braided, peaked cap watching and commanding the scurrying seaman. She guessed it was the Captain. The cold wind from the west gathered strength as she stood, and she hugged herself to retain a little warmth. It was the west wind they wanted, she remembered. Daniel had told her yesterday that such a wind would take them out of the harbor.
She looked for him, searching the faces of the crew, switching her gaze from man to man, until she found him. He was in the bow of the ship along with another seaman and they were cranking up something on a chain that must be the anchor. She shouted his name out, as loud as she could, and he responded, answering her with words carried away by the wind. When he’d finished cranking, he came to the rail at the stern of the ship and leant over. He beckoned and she moved forward to the edge of the wharf and looked up at him. ‘I love you, Hannah,’ he shouted and this time she heard every word.
‘I love you, Daniel,’ she shouted back, voice breaking, tears streaming down her cheeks. He was brushing at his face and she knew he was shedding tears too, this strong, fearless man of hers. Whoever said grown men didn’t cry?
‘Stand back there, miss,’ a voice warned and she jumped aside. The last two ropes holding the wharf to the ship were released and reeled back to the deck. The ship moved, minutely at first and then, as the sails sucked the air, steady progress away from the dock. Within a minute, the Spring Grove was a hundred yards away, bowing through the choppy water.
Hannah stayed immobile, eyes never leaving the ship or the diminishing figure of her Daniel, on the stern of the vessel and waving. She continued to follow the path of the Spring Grove until the ship’s shape diminished to a tiny dark speck down near the heads. When it too blended with the waves and nothing more could be seen, she retraced her steps to the hospital.
Inside the foyer, she was told Matron Gertrude Sorrenson wanted to see her. The inner glow she felt dissipated as she visualized the possible consequences of her leaving the ward without approval. Would Sorrenson dismiss her or worse report her to the authorities? If so, her ticket-of-leave could be withdrawn. What would they do, her and little Charlotte if that happened? Oh, God, don’t let it be. She took in a deep breath, exhaled and knocked on the Matron’s door. .
Chapter 10
SYDNEY TOWN
1813-1814
Clutching Charlotte’s hand tightly in hers, Hannah stepped purposely across busy George Street. ‘Watch out for the mud, Charlie,’ she warned, lifting the toddler clear of a deep puddle. ‘We don’t want to get all wet, do we?’
Charlotte’s large chocolate eyes focused on her mother. ‘Mummy, look.’ She pointed ahead. ‘There’s a doggy.’
‘Yes,’ her mother replied. ‘It’s a dog but I don’t think it’s a clean dog.’ She avoided the stray cur by skirting around it. ‘Come on, lambkin,’ she insisted, as the child kept turning around to watch the old grey dog, who’d pricked up his ears at the interest.
‘Nice doggy,’ Charlotte repeated, chortling.
Hannah looked fondly down on her daughter, at the chubby, smooth cheeks, the soft, oh so kissable little mouth and the blonde hair that already showed signs of being a crowning glory. She saw her own flesh and blood. The features were undoubtedly hers, so they said — the other people in Mrs. Radcliffe’s boarding house — but perhaps her little button nose was shaped more like John’s? Perhaps, but where did she get those dark eyes from? John Dixon had blue and hers were hazel. She smiled, clasping the child’s smooth little hand tighter in hers and stepped onto the footpath under the awning of Claude Reynold’s General Store and Merchandise.
‘Hannah, hey there, Hannah.’
‘She turned, sweeping her gaze around, but could not locate the caller.
‘Over here, Hannah, over here.’ The words strengthened to a shout, eagerness in the call. ‘In the sulky, girl, it’s me. Come over here.’
It was Rosie. Rosie O’Donoghue. Hannah hurried her child to the side of the sulky and reached up to grasp the extended hand.
‘Wait,’ Rosie cried. ‘I’m coming down.’ She jumped and tied the reins to a nearby pole. ‘There,’ she exclaimed. ‘That’ll hold the buggers.’
She threw herself in Hannah’s arms, sweeping her off her feet and kept kissing her repeatedly until Hannah laughed and pushed her away to regain her breath. ‘Merciful God, Hannah,’ Rosie said, ‘how lucky I am to see you here. How long has it been?’
‘Last year, about June, I think.’ They clasped hands tightly, drinking in the sight of each other and allowed the tears to form with the laughter. Look at her, she’s beautiful and so confident, Hannah thought. It’s as if the young, defenseless convict girl from the Canada never existed.
Rosie’s eyes focused on the little girl clutching her mother’s frock and staring up at them with those expressive dark eyes. ‘Oh, dear little Charlotte, how you have grown up.’ She leant down to kiss a rosy cheek, much to the child’s surprise. Charlotte hid her face shyly in her mother’s skirts and peeped out warily. ‘She’s going to break some hearts,’ Rosie declared. ‘Look at that pretty fair hair. Oh, God, she’s so beautiful, Hannah.’
‘Yes,’ Hannah conceded proudly, ‘but what about you, Rosie O’Donoghue or should I say Mrs. John Williams? How is Campbelltown? Where are your husband and children? How—’
Rosie laughed. ‘Questions, questions, questions. Hey, I want to ask about you, not me, but, Hannah, what can I say?’ She beamed at her friend. ‘My life is everything I’ve ever wanted. John is so good to me.’ She waved her arm in the general direction of Government House. ‘He’s down there somewhere seeking another land grant as if we haven’t got enough land to look after, now...’ Rosie giggled. ‘As for the children, they’re home, being spoilt rotten, I would imagine by Mary and the girls.’
‘Mary and the girls? Who are they?’
Rosie leaned closer, conspiratorially, eyes widening in wonder. ‘We’ve got black servants and farm workers, about six of them, I think, or is it seven? The women love childr
en, particularly white babies but the farm workers are not so good.’ She sighed. ‘John’s always having trouble with them. They keep going walkabout. It’s in their blood, John says, but when they are there, they are good workers.’ She paused, breathless, eyeing her friend and shook her head with undisguised love. ‘I want you to come to Foster Grove — that’s what we call it — you and Charlotte and stay as long as you want. John will welcome you, my dearest friend, so please think about it, soon.’ She repositioned the bright red cashmere shawl to better cover her cleavage. ‘Isn’t it cold? Now, tell me, Hannah, about yourself.’ She punched Hannah’s arm playfully and laughed, revealing a gold filling that was never seen on the Canada. ‘And leave nothing out.’
‘Well.’ Hannah put an arm around her daughter. ‘It is now good for us, really. I now have my TOL and the big news is that I’m getting married, probably in September and I want you and John to come—’
‘Oh, for sure, who is it?’ Rosie shrieked. ‘Who’s finally won your English heart?’
‘His name’s Daniel Clarke and he’s a seaman on a whaling ship.’
‘Oh, that’s great,’ Rosie responded but Hannah thought she detected a slight disappointment in her tone. Did Rosie expect everyone to be so lucky as to marry rich settlers? She dismissed the idea immediately as unfair to a dear friend.
‘I’ll be there and I’ll dance at your wedding, Hannah. Please write to me or get a message sent. Just Mrs. Williams at Foster Grove, Campbelltown will do.’ They were silent for a moment and Rosie grew thoughtful. ‘What’s happened to Hannah P?’ she asked softly.
‘She’s still at Newcastle in prison, so they say, but hopefully back here in September—’
‘She can come to the wedding, then. Wouldn’t that be great, Hannah, the three of us, survivors of the Canada. Oh, we’d have so much to tell each other.’ She glanced upwards searching for the sun. ‘Hannah, love, I have to go. John will be wondering where I am.’ She pulled Hannah close. ‘Remember,’ she whispered into Hannah’s hair. ‘You are my dearest friend. I have never forgotten that, but for you and Hannah P, I would be dead. We’ve been through so much together and I will never forget that.’ She withdrew to kiss Hannah on the lips. ‘Goodbye, Hannah, and you, too, my pretty little Charlie.’ She chucked Charlotte under the chin, turned to untie the reins and leaped into the sulky. ‘Come on you lazy buggers,’ she ordered the black horses. ‘Get going if you want to be fed.’ She struck them with the tail of the reins and they jumped off instantly. ‘Goodbye, Hannah, don’t forget me and the wedding. Write to me,’ she yelled, and waved over her shoulder.
Hannah Page 14