‘D’ye remember when we used to sit on Rupert ‘ill with Sam and see the mountains far away over the Mersey?’
‘Yes,’ said Sarah, combining the memory with the beauty she could see all around.
‘An’ I used to promise to take ye there one day,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she answered with a blissful smile.
‘Well, this is what I imagined it to be,’ he said, taking in the scented air with a long deep sigh.
They gazed out over the landscape a few moments longer then Pat took off his hat and placed it on Sarah’s head and bent under the brim to kiss her tenderly. They eventually came to a narrow river in the north of the colony, and trotted alongside it for quite a while. Gradually, the river pushed the land further and further apart, until it became the open sea and they came to a standstill.
‘Ye’ll never guess where we are, Sarah,’ said Pat with a smile.
Sarah looked around and on the other side of the river was a busy little town.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said, gazing out over the water. ‘Where are we then?’
‘It’s the Mersey, Sarah,’ he said, waiting for her reaction. Sarah shook her head. ‘Where’s that then?’ She asked pointing to the town. ‘It’s not Liverpool, any’ ow.’
‘No, it’s Devonport, but it is the River Mersey, it was called that after the one back ‘ome in Liverpool.’
Though it was not as wide or as murky as the original, they still felt a connection to it, even if purely by word association. They sat on the banks of the new Mersey and reminisced for a few hours about Sam and their old life back in Liverpool and fell in love all over again. On their return journey, they set up camp at the foot of Cradle Mountain. Beside the bright orange glow of the fire, their passion took flame and they made love again for the first time in over seven years, under a diamond encrusted sky.
Pat was risking his life to see Sarah but his love for her had blinded him to the danger of his situation. The major was very obliging with them; nothing was too much trouble for him. In fact, he enjoyed watching their love blossom again after such hardship, but he was also concerned for Pat. After all, he was a wanted man and he feared he was becoming far too complacent.
It was the second week of March, 1831, and Pat was making his way to the major’s house once more. Unknown to anyone in the household or to those working in the vineyard, a gang of four men was lying in wait. Having received a tip off from one of the workers who had earlier been doing the repair work on the majors house. They had been in the area for two days, waiting to claim their two hundred pound reward for Pat, one hundred if he were dead. They all stopped chatting and froze when they spotted a male figure, slowly but quite boldly emerging from the bushes, clearing the fence and making his way across the paddock to the back of the house. He was not without caution, and took the odd glance around the area to reassure himself that the coast was clear, like a fox heading for the chicken pen. Then Sarah appeared with a basket full of washing, and noticing him, immediately skipped down the terrace steps to greet him. She handed him the washing basket and kissed him, then started hanging out the washing.
The signal went out from the head of the gang to make ready their weapons and prepare to move in on him. Pat was in full view in the open paddock, an easy target. The gang slowly spread out through the bushes before appearing at the paddock fence, having surrounded Pat as much as possible. He and Sarah were preoccupied with each other and the washing, until, out of the corner of his eye, Pat noticed a man scaling the fence, and then saw the others doing the same.
‘Oh, Christ! I’m done for,’ he said.
Sarah turned to see what he meant and saw the four men now aiming their weapons directly at them.
‘Don’t make a move, Roche, else we’ll fill you full of holes!’ shouted the head man, as he moved forward, his barrel fixed on Pat.
The happy couple’s mood turned sombre in an instant. There was no way out now, yet Sarah was fearful that Pat was about to do something stupid in an attempt to escape.
‘Don’t worry, Sarah,’ he said, then moving away from her he called out to the men, ‘Point ye weapons away from ‘er. It’s me ye want, so there’s no need to aim at ‘er.’
‘Well, if you do anything silly, Roche, she could get caught in the crossfire,’ warned another of the men.
‘That’s why I’m not goin’ to do anythin’. I’ll come peacefully.’
The major appeared on the terrace to see Pat being overpowered in a cloud of dust and wrestled to the ground, while Sarah punched and kicked her husband’s attackers.
‘What the devil do you think you’re doing on my property?’ he shouted.
The four men ignored him and proceeded to bind Pat with rope. The major realised that the men were bounty hunters and Pat had taken one too many risks. He was bundled away and taken towards Hobart. Sarah, Laura and the major went to find John, before heading to Hobart themselves to find out his fate.
It was the last Saturday of March, 1831, and the scaffold outside the gaol in Hobart town was ready for the morning’s hangings. A dense excited crowd was gathering, while Pat tried his hardest to prepare himself for death. He had thought he was ready to face it, until he had a final visit the night before from Sarah, John, Laura and the major. The visit had made matters worse for him. He didn’t want to die. He had only just recovered the feeling of wanting to live again. The time was seven o’clock and he was due to hang at eleven, a mere four hours’ of life left. He paced up and down in his cramped and gloomy cell, with only a tiny window high up the wall throwing in a dim light. Each minute that ticked by was pure torture. He had not been able to settle, or keep still, and his body trembled as cold beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He could not take another four hours of thinking about his life and why it had been such a torment.
Sarah paced up and down on the terrace unable to rest, an endless stream of tears rolling down her face as she chewed her nails to the quick. The major sat in the parlour, his forehead set in a deep frown. Every few minutes he would pull out his pocket watch to check the time before letting out a sigh and replacing it in his waistcoat pocket. John and Laura sat quietly in the kitchen, staring into nothing; the whole house awaiting the hour of eleven o’clock and yet praying for it never to come, but now it was almost upon them and the inevitable was about to happen. Laura had made some tea in order to keep occupied, but Sarah didn’t have the stomach for anything.
It was approximately 10.45 when Pat heard the door to his cell unlock and fly open abruptly. The burly guard stood there in the dark corridor.
‘Out ye come, Roche … It’s time to meet your maker,’ he said mockingly.
Pat walked out of his cell into the long corridor like a man sleepwalking to his doom. Down the corridor he joined a line of six other men and as they were marched away, some seemed to be in a trance, others trembling uncontrollably. Pat could hear the sobs of somebody else in front and a guard made an awkward attempt to comfort him,
‘Don’t worry, it’ll all be over in a few minutes.’
Though this was hardly a comforting thought, the sobs stopped and the man mustered up the strength to end his life with a degree of dignity. Pat tried to do the same. He didn’t need this wretched life anymore, he tried to tell himself. He was off to see Sam, Joe, Charlie and his mother.
The major came out on to the terrace to find Sarah, with face drawn, staring out across the paddock, to the spot where she and Pat had last been together. She knew by the major’s expression that it was all over and she gripped the rail to stop herself from collapsing. The major did his best to comfort her but he had to support himself with his walking stick. John and Laura came out and Laura threw her arms around Sarah, breaking down at the sight of the intense sorrow etched on her face. It was quarter past the hour and they were now free to mourn their loss. In a sense it was a relief that the dreadful moment had finally passed.
On that darkest of days, the major’s house was as silen
t as the grave. Nobody could find any words of comfort to help Sarah cope with her loss; she just wanted to be left alone to silently weep out her grief. But the stillness was broken in the early evening, when a carriage trundled up the drive. Grinding to a halt in front of the house, out stepped a gentleman dressed in black heading for the door. Sarah slipped up to her room as the visitor headed up the path, in no mood to talk to anyone else. Major Summerfield had heard the carriage and stretched himself as high as he could, without leaving his high-backed chair, in an effort to look out of the window and see who it might be. John looked out too, but the man’s face was covered by a hat, though it would turn out that he was no stranger to John.
‘Send him away, John. If it’s about the wine, tell him to come back in a couple of days,’ said the major.
With that, the knock came at the door and John went to receive the gentleman, planting a light kiss on Laura’s head as he passed, while she sat staring blankly at some needlework she was supposed to be working on. The house was in no mood for any company and John opened the door, ready to send the visitor away, but got a surprise when he removed his hat.
‘Father McBride! It’s so good to see you.’
‘Good to see you too, John,’ he said, giving his hand an affectionate shake. ‘Is this the house of the retired major Summerfield?’
‘Yes, yes it is, why do you ask? Do you need to speak to him?’ asked John, keeping the priest at the door.
‘Well, actually it’s Mrs Roche I need to speak to. I am told she works and resides here. Is that so?’
‘Yes, indeed, but I don’t know whether she will see you at the moment, Father … you do know that Pat was hanged at Hobart this morning?’
The major leaned over the arm of his chair with his ear outstretched, trying to listen in, indicating to Laura that he needed to know who John was talking to. Laura stood up and put her ear to the door. John had not given much thought to the priest since he had arrived at the colony, but on seeing him again he realised that he had missed him and considered him to be a fine friend. He remembered how he was always there to support him on board the Rupert, but on arrival at the colony they had gone their separate ways.
‘… Father, it is wonderful to see you again, but I am afraid we are not fit company tonight … perhaps some …’
‘I know, I know. Perhaps I had better explain. Come with me, John,’ whispered the priest feeling slightly awkward, guiding him to the waiting carriage.
Feeling quite anxious that he was maybe about to have to look at Pat’s corpse, John followed the priest to the carriage and at a signal from him, looked inside.
‘You took ye bloody time, didn’t ye?’ said Pat with a big grin on his face.
John could not take in what he was seeing and thought it must be a ghost. It took him a few seconds to realise that Pat had really been saved and was sitting there in the flesh. Overjoyed at seeing him again, he climbed into the carriage and hugged him so tightly that Pat had to cry out for air.
Laura was at the window watching in confusion as the carriage began to sway quite violently. If she had not been convinced that this uninvited visitor was friendly, she would have sworn that John was being murdered, or maybe kidnapped in that carriage, but to her surprise he emerged with somebody else, and all three men headed back to the house.
‘What is that man up to Laura?’ asked the major impatiently.
‘I don’t know, Father, certainly something very odd!’ she replied, walking over to his side to await the next surprise.
All three men entered the house very quietly then stepped into the parlour to greet the major and Laura. The major was none too pleased at John bringing in unwanted guests at such a time and his displeasure was written clearly on his face. Meanwhile, Pat kept his face concealed by keeping his head down beneath his hat.
‘Major, Laura. May I present Father McBride and his associate?’ said John, straining to keep a straight face. ‘They have come as a matter of urgency concerning Sarah.’ Laura had suspected something was afoot by John’s actions, though the major certainly had not, and stood up reluctantly with the support of his stick.
‘What is this about? Mrs Roche is in mourning and does not want to be disturbed,’ said the major casting a look of stern disapproval in John’s direction.
‘They need to know if Sarah wants to reclaim Pat’s body,’ announced John, reluctantly going along with the subterfuge.
‘What! They have only just hanged the man. This house is in mourning, can’t you see? I will not have Mrs Roche disturbed with such tasteless talk and you, sir, are supposed to be a man of the cloth. Where is your compassion?’
The ruse had been taken too far and Pat stepped forward to reveal himself, removing his hat and beaming a broad smile at the major and his daughter.
‘Well then, major, I’ll just ‘ave to reclaim me wife meself then.’
‘By Jove! How? When?’ The major was aghast.
So too was Laura, and it took her a few moments to get used to the idea and run over to embrace Pat, quickly followed by the major, who asked him how he had managed to escape the gallows.
‘I’ll explain later … Laura, can you go and fetch Sarah without ‘er knowin’ I’m ‘ere?’
‘Don’t you think that would be rather cruel, after all she’s been through these last few days? She thinks you are dead, Pat. Can you imagine what that has done to her? The poor girl is completely heartbroken.’
Looking shame-faced, Pat was about to agree, when they heard Sarah’s footsteps in the hallway. She had come down from her room to fetch a glass of water. Laura went out and took her gently by the arm.
‘Sarah, dear, we have wonderful news … the best news … indeed, the only news which could secure your future happiness.’
Sarah looked at her uncomprehendingly, her red eyes hollow, empty with grief, and allowed herself to be led like a child into the drawing room. Father McBride jumped up and took her other arm and helped her to a sofa, where she sat, head bowed, until Pat came over and gently lifted her chin until their eyes met.
‘Oh, my darlin’ Sarah,’ he said, as he saw the pain and grief in those beautiful eyes and fiercely pulled her to him and held her tight, smothering her head with kisses. She couldn’t believe he was there in the flesh holding her once again, she thought he was gone forever.
After several moments, Sarah drew in a long shuddering breath and began to sob loudly. The tears came faster and faster as she clung on to him as though she would never let him go again, until Pat, who was openly sobbing too, prised himself away just long enough to say,
‘Are ye tryin’ to squeeze the life blood out o’ me, or what, Sarah?’ This broke the tension and the sobs became interspersed with laughter and Pat took her up in his arms and swung her round the room, as the others cheered and laughed and hugged each other.
The mood of celebration lasted well into the night, until the major and Father McBride began to focus on more practical matters. The carriage was sent on its way and it was agreed that Pat and the priest should stop the night and give them a full explanation of the events surrounding the execution. As sleeping arrangements were being sorted out and a meal prepared for everyone, they gathered round the table and listened avidly as the story unfolded.
It had all begun with Pat’s old enemy, Eddie Rawlins, who had spent the last three years toiling in chains on the road gangs. Creating roadways, cutting through woodland, building bridges – the work was laborious and monotonous. Before that he had spent a few years on assignment duties, but it had not worked out for him. He had the wrong attitude and stubbornly refused to take orders and bow down to his assigned masters. So the magistrate decided to transfer him to the road gangs, where he would have no choice but to work. To increase efficiency, the road gangs often slept where they worked, at the roadside, and had their meals brought out to them. The strict regime afforded no opportunity for bullying, or victimisation, as the guards and overseers were very vigilant. So Rawlins’ intimidating
ways diminished through lack of opportunity and day to day toil. As the years went by, Rawlins seemed to have accepted his fate and just wanted to finish his seven-year sentence.
Then, while he was working on a bridge over the Derwent River, a huge stone slab rolled down the embankment, killing one man outright, while Rawlins sustained what proved to be fatal injuries. He was taken to the infirmary, where he was not expected to last the day. Father McBride was called to his bedside as the local parish priest. Rawlins knew his fate and had a last minute attack of conscience, now that death was upon him. His breathing was shallow and wheezy, but he could still talk and he spoke of the after-life to the priest.
‘D’ye s’pose the Lord will forgive a man of all his wrong doin’s, if ‘e was truly sorry, Father?’
‘If he was truly repentant in his heart for what he had done and confessed all his sins, then I am sure that God would forgive him, for He is infinitely merciful.’
Rawlins lay quietly with his thoughts for a few moments, before turning to the priest and haltingly confessing to a murder, for which another man had been punished. Though the confession was told in strict confidence, because of the gravity of the offence, Father McBride encouraged Rawlins to have it all written down and witnessed, and Rawlins agreed. So the priest brought in a nurse to witness the confession as he took a quill to paper.
Bound to Sarah Page 24