Hannah

by Raymond Clarke

  ‘Oh, John, is it . . . ?’

  ‘It’s the Spring Grove.’

  Edna screamed with delight and Hannah threw herself on the big man. He held her as she sobbed, patting her shoulder. ‘I think she’s happy but you wouldn’t know it, with all the tears,’ he chuckled, nodding through the strands of long, dark hair at a smiling Edna.

  The women sat on John’s dray, swinging their legs like excited children as he coaxed the old horse into action. They called into the blacksmith shop to pick up Sarah. At Campbell’s main dock, they jumped off, leaving John to park the dray, and ran around to the dock, eyes searching avidly towards the east. The Spring Grove filled their sights. It lay abreast of Pinchgut under bare poles while two small vessels maneuvered it under its bow. Tiny figures moved on the deck but it was too far away to recognize faces. ‘They’ll need the barges to bring her in,’ John said. ‘The tide and wind are against her.’

  The bowsprit turned slowly towards them. ‘It’s moving, John. Look. It’s coming in.’ Hannah clutched at John’s arm.

  ‘Aye, it is, lass.’

  The ship loomed closer and swung to enter the cove. Her gaze centered on a lone figure high up on the shrouds. Suddenly, a cap was waved to and fro and she could see familiar sandy hair . . .

  ‘It’s him,’ she shouted, ‘I know it. It’s Daniel.’ She undid the fastenings and tore off her bonnet, waving in response, while her amused friends nodded, happy for her. Impatiently, Hannah watched the ship’s bulk close. The men on the wharf stood waiting to catch the rope as the side of the ship nudged slowly towards the dock. She gasped as Daniel leapt across the closing gap and landed on the wooden planks with an audible thump of heavy boots. She thought with concern that he could have rolled an ankle before she was encased within strong arms that swept her off her feet, swinging her around and around.

  ‘Please, Daniel, stop. I’m dizzy,’ she shrieked.

  He roared with laughter, pushed her back from him and scrutinized her intently. ‘Yes,’ he said, nodding, ‘You’re just as I imagined all these long months.’ He pulled her forward and kissed her, softly at first and then with passion.

  ‘You’ll have to get rid of that beard,’ she shouted, when she came up for air. ‘I’m not going to put up with that. It itches.’

  ‘Aye, miss, that I will but it was handy down south, though, to keep me warm.’

  ‘Welcome back, Daniel.’ John shook his hand vigorously and the women grouped around him, hugging him in turn.

  ‘Thanks, John.’ Daniel turned to Edna and Sarah. ‘And thanks to you two lovely ladies for looking after my girl. I can’t thank you enough.’ He put his arm around them again and kissed the proffered cheeks. ‘My God, it’s good to be back,’ he added. ‘Well, Hannah Stanley.’ His eyes bored into hers. ‘Do you still want to get married?’

  Hannah cocked her head and pursed her lips. Her eyes brightened in levity. ‘Well, I’ve had quite a few offers from rich settlers and Rum Corps officers since you left, Mr. Clarke, but if you are making an offer, I guess I’ll have to consider it along with the others.’

  ‘Is that so, madam?’ He shook his head, playing her game, glancing at the amused trio who stood beside them. ‘Oh, well, I can’t compete with those suitors, too good for a poor old sailor like me. Pity though, here’s me ready to give up the sea and find a loving wife.’

  Hannah’s eyes searched his face. ‘Give up the sea, eh? Well . . . that night make a wee difference.’

  ‘Are you sure, Miss?’ Daniel raised his eyebrows, wry smile forming. ‘I’m only a poor sailor—’

  ‘Correction, mister,’ Hannah said, with emphasis. ‘You’re a poor ex-sailor.’

  Daniel shook his head in mock irritation. ‘Already she’s giving me orders. Oh, well. He pulled her into his arms and they kissed again.

  Edna’s raised voice brought them back to reality. ‘Come on, plenty of time for that nonsense later. There’s a little girl called Charlotte who—’

  Hannah put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, my God, yes, Charlotte—’

  ‘How is she?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘She’s better now but she has been very ill.’

  ‘The poor little one.’ He sighed. ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about, Hannah.’

  She nodded, thoughtful now. ‘Yes, indeed we have.’ She took his arm and her face beamed with happiness. ‘Come on, all you slow coaches,’ she urged, and led her friends back to John Bridges’s dray. The old grey horse looked up as the humans bustled towards him then lowered his head to resume chewing on his nose bag . . .

  ‘So you want to get married?’ The clerk pondered, chewing on the handle of a pen.

  ‘Yes, that’s the general idea,’ Daniel eyed the clerical fellow with impatience. ‘That’s why we are here.'

  ‘And the woman here is a convict?’

  Daniel gritted his teeth. ‘The lady here has been convicted, yes. That’s why we’re here in the Assistant Secretary’s office otherwise we would be married already.’

  ‘Humph.’ The clerk swung in his chair and scanned the pigeon-hole cabinet behind him. ‘Now, I wonder where those elusive convict’s marriage application forms are hiding.’

  Daniel tapped the desk top with his fingers while the clerk shuffled lazily through numerous bundles of documents. Patronizing ass, he thought, glancing at Hannah who warned him to patience with a finger placed on her lips and a roll of her eyes.

  ‘Ah, here’s one,’ exclaimed the clerk. ‘Now, let’s see. There are a few questions that need to be answered first. Ah, firstly, the convict’s full name is?’

  Hannah told him and they watched him methodically write in down on the blank form. ‘I hold a ticket-of-leave,’ she added.

  ‘That makes no difference,’ the clerk muttered, head down and scratching away with a quill. ‘You still have to get approval. Now, he glanced up at Daniel. Your name is?’

  ‘Daniel Clarke.’

  ‘Occupation?’

  ‘Seaman or I was but now I’m—’

  The clerk pursed his lips while his fingers toyed with the pen. ‘Unless you’re working at a fixed job in the colony, you’d still be classified as a visiting seaman.’

  ‘But,’ Daniel tried to be patient. ‘I’m paid off from the ship—’

  ‘What ship?’

  ‘The Spring Grove. It’s a whaling ship.’

  ‘Humph.’ The clerk leant back in his chair, frowned, and pulled on an ear. ‘I’ll be honest with you,’ he said, not establishing eye contact with either. ‘I don’t make the rules but the Governor’s policy is that the person responsible for the convict is in full time work and is a permanent resident of the colony. Now, in your case—’

  ‘But I’m a free settler,’ Daniel protested.

  ‘Not yet you aren’t,’ the clerk pointed out. ‘Not until you’re accepted by the Government as being such.’

  ‘And just how do I go about that?’ Daniel asked, an edge to his voice.

  ‘To qualify for the Governor’s approval on this marriage proposal I would suggest . . .’ the clerk paused nonchalantly to pick at a well-bitten fingernail. ‘That you get a job here in the colony and become part of the community. Then—’

  ‘Then what happens? This is damn stupid. How long do I have to work for, before I’m recognized or whatever it is?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I asked how long I have to work before being accepted as part of this community.’

  ‘Well, I was coming to that. The Administration require that a period of at least three months is worked.’ The clerk shuffled papers impatiently on his desk. ‘When you’ve done that, come back then for the appropriate certification.’ He stood, making it obvious that the interview was over.

  Daniel leaned forward and placed both hands on the desk, eyes hardening. ‘Listen to me.’ He watched the clerk’s face pale at the rise in his voice. ‘I may not be a free settler by your damn rules but I’m a free citizen of this colony. Can’t you understand that? Look, damn this nonsens
e. Who is your superior officer? I want to see him.’

  ‘He’s out touring the colony.’ The clerk tapped the desktop nervously. ‘You’ll have to make an appointment if you want to see him, but it won’t change anything—’

  ‘We’ll make an appointment, well. What’s his name?’ Daniel demanded.

  The clerk hesitated. ‘I . . . his name is Albert Fortescue. He’s the Assistant to—’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ Hannah gasped. ‘I know him. I should have known―’

  ‘The Assistant Colonial Secretary,’ the clerk finished, lamely.

  Daniel stared at Hannah and tried to assimilate what was going on. There was something here he did not understand. What did it mean? Had something happened between Hannah and this Assistant fellow by the name of Fortescue? ‘Right, we will make an appointment to see this Assistant Colonial Secretary and we will be back.’ He glared at the clerk and firmly took her arm. ‘Come, Hannah, let’s go.’ He turned at the door, glancing back at the clerk, who stood, watching them, the marriage application form hanging loosely in one hand.

  ‘So that’s it.’ Daniel looked across the table at the giant blacksmith. ‘There’s something rotten going on. This Fortescue fellow has got it in for Hannah and he’s told his clerk not to cooperate.’

  John Bridges nodded. ‘Yes, it seems that way.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘I think you need some support in writing, to the proper authority—’

  ‘Yes, we have to go over this clerk’s head, at least.’ Edna placed a plate of oatmeal cakes on the table. ‘Here, eat up, everybody.’ She laid a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. ‘Particularly you, miss.’

  Hannah patted Edna’s hand. ‘Look,’ she said, leaning forward with excitement. ‘John’s right. I can get letters of support from Rosie’s John Williams. He’s one of the top settlers in the colony and also Reverend Melville down at Parramatta and—’

  ‘And there is me too,’ John said, ‘for what it is worth.’

  ‘And me. Don’t forget me.’ Edna Radcliffe snorted. ‘I run the cleanest and most respectable boarding house in this town and the Government know it, too. I’ve spoken personally to Governor Macquarie a few times and he knows me. I can put pen to paper in support, too.’

  ‘So there we go.’ Daniel laughed and they joined hands across Edna’s spotless kitchen table. ‘Now we are getting somewhere.’

  ‘Daniel, can you write a letters to Rosie and John so I can post them?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘Yes, I will, and I think I should go and personally see that Reverend in Parramatta―’

  ‘I wish I could go with you,’ Hannah said, sadly.

  ‘I know, love.’ He touched her cheek tenderly. ‘You could get in awful trouble if you’re caught without a location permit. We can’t afford that, can we? Besides, my wife to be . . .’ He searched her face for a reaction. ‘I wanted to tell you something. While I’m at Parramatta, I intend to go up bush to Windsor. I want to have a look at some land up there—’

  ‘They tell me that it’s great top soil up on the Hawkesbury.’ John Bridges paused, thoughtful.

  ‘Ah ha,’ Sarah chuckled. ‘I can see an idea forming in my John’s head.’

  Daniel smiled at Sarah and winked at John. ‘You’d make a fine farmer.’ He rose from the table and Hannah followed. ‘We’re going for a walk to clear our heads. We’ve got a lot to do and talk about.’

  ‘Before you go, Daniel, I think I’ve got the answer to that job you’re supposed to have―’

  ‘Yes, John?’

  John stood, dwarfing Daniel, and looking down on his friend with affection. ‘I’ll tell you about it later. Now, go and get some fresh air with this here girl.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Daniel laughed and put an arm around Hannah. ‘That we will do, John.’

  Daniel returned from Windsor after Christmas, Hannah’s fifth year in the colony of New South Wales, in high spirits as to the merits of the land and the magical river. His enthusiasm was catching, but Hannah only had thoughts for their marriage and the coming appointment they’d managed to make with the assistant to the Assistant Colonial Secretary.

  The clerk’s hardened eyes followed them as they walked past him on the way to his superior’s office. ‘He looks worried, that one,’ Hannah commented in a whisper.

  ‘He’s Fortescue’s tool, the fall guy who’ll cop the blame if there’s a kick back,’ Daniel replied. He knocked on the door that had the notice Assistant to the Assistant Secretary. Mr. Albert Fortescue.

  ‘Enter.’ Fortescue didn’t rise from behind his shiny mahogany desk, nor recognize Hannah. He waved at the vacant chairs. ‘Ah, yes, Clarke, isn’t it? I have your application here.’ Take a seat.’ He sat forward and made a steeple with long, slender fingers, a glance flickering across to Hannah, eyes instantly dropping under her steady gaze. He made no eye contact, eyes focusing on the space between them. ‘I understand you’ve seen my clerk and he’s quite clearly and rightly informed you of His Excellency’s ruling on marriage and the necessity of the man having permanent work in the colony to support a convict person.’ He risked a swift appraisal of Hannah, concentrating not on her face but insolently lowering his gaze to her bosom. ‘There is nothing more now that I can do. I don’t make the rules. Unless you are working and you can support this convict woman according to the requirements, you can’t be married—’

  ‘Ah, but I have been for working full time for the last three months and still are.’ Daniel said coolly.

  ‘Yes?’ Fortescue frowned. ‘Now where would that be?’

  ‘At the business of John Bridges’ Blacksmith Shop, in George Street. I’ve been there for the past four months and it’s a permanent job.’

  ‘Really?’ Fortescue’s thin lips twisted in irritation. ‘Why isn’t this fellow Bridges, or whatever his name is, here to verify your claim? I can’t just accept verbal statements without proof—’

  ‘He’ll come in if you like but there’s his verification in writing.’ Daniel tossed John’s letter on the desk. ‘Otherwise, you can go down and ask him. His shop is just down the road.’

  ‘I haven’t got the time to go running around all over the town.’ Fortescue grimaced as he skim read the letter and laid it back on the table. ‘What about references? I need three in accordance with the rules.’ This time, his eyes met Daniel’s. ‘We have to know that you’re not an escaped criminal, a secret felon perhaps or a highway robber?’

  ‘I’ll ignore your insults just this once. You didn’t include harassment of women, did you?’ Daniel smiled at Fortescue’s discomfort and slid a bundle of letters across the table. ‘Here are your references of which I’ve made copies just in case they somehow go astray. There’s letters from a Presbyterian minister of religion, another from one of the colony’s most respected settlers and one from the respectful owner of a leading boarding house―’

  ‘Enough,’ Fortescue roared, sweeping the papers aside then thought better of it and pulled them back. ‘The clerk will need these to attach to the application.’ His voice became matter-of-fact as he tried to gain face. ‘This is a start but it’s still got to be approved by the Governor himself.’

  ‘I realize that.’ Daniel eyed the official intently. ‘But let’s hope it’s not, for any reason known or unknown, held up in your office and that it’s expedited to the Governor urgently as the important people in those references are asking it be done.’

  ‘What are you insinuating?’ Fortescue blurted, rising from his chair.

  ‘Daniel . . .’ Hannah warned.

  ‘Look, time is important for us, Hannah and me. We wouldn’t want any unnecessary delay. We intend to be married in Windsor within the month.’

  ‘Ah, is that so? The convict wants to marry out of Sydney Town? Let me inform you that convicts must have approval to change localities even for short periods. That is the law.’ Albert Fortescue strode past them and opened the door. ‘You may see the clerk about that matter on the way out. He has a form for that too which must be filled in by th
e convict. That is necessary to attach to the application which I will hold. Now, excuse me, I have other work to do.’

  Albert Fortescue held his breath as he watched the seaman and his wife-to-be leave his office. Anger built up in him. He’d been rejected by this convict woman and then she and her seaman lover had somehow obtained the support of one of the colony’s leading and richest settlers, John Williams, a personal friend of the Governor. Oh, how he dearly wanted to tear up the application and dump it but his hands were tied. It had to go forward to Macquarie now. The papers had to be directed via the Assistant Secretary to the Governor and that softie would approve them the way he always did, rubber stamping everything put in front of him. He handed out pardons to every disgusting old lag in the colony, every convict scum and his ‘be kind to the savages at all costs policy’ was a joke. Settlers and their families were getting massacred while he refused to take action. Macquarie is too weak and they should recall him. If he, Albert Fortescue, had his way, it would be different. His thoughts came back to Hannah and her seaman lover. He hoped that his and their paths would cross again somewhere and then to his advantage . . .

  In late April 1814, Hannah and Charlotte journeyed from Sydney Town along the long, lonely road to the remote township of Windsor to join Daniel. They travelled for safety in a convoy of buggies, sulkies and drays and carts of would-be settlers, farmers returning to their blocks and a detachment of soldiers posted to the nearby village of Richmond. Despite reports of wild blacks on the road, only an elderly aboriginal woman and a young boy, proudly hefting a large goanna over his shoulder, could be seen.

  As they entered Parramatta, Hannah gazed at the house on the hill with mixed feelings. The Female Factory stood, shrouded in the early morning mist, grim and foreboding, hiding its secrets within, as it did on her last sight of it, nearly three years ago. She heaved a sigh of relief when they crossed to the Windsor road and the vision from hell disappeared from sight. She glanced down at her sleeping child, peaceful and beautiful in her sleep, the tattered cloth doll clutched in one tiny hand. Thank God she will never know a Female Factory, she thought.