Mary's Guardian (5 page)

***

William’s days would now consist of clearing ground, forming roads between the buildings that were begun; the Governor’s quarters, the hospital and housing for the soldiers. It was hard physical labour in the blistering heat. He dropped exhausted each night into his bunk in one of the men’s tents. But his last thoughts each night were of Mary. He prayed for her safety and a good measure of self-control. She needed to hold her tongue, to keep herself out of trouble.

A group of women from Mary’s tent were given plots of ground where they were to establish gardens. Most of the women found digging a heavy and objectionable chore and there was as much complaining and whining as she’d heard on the trip over the seas. She had to admit she often felt the same inclination to ease up on the work the moment the overseers weren’t looking, but William’s words of encouragement were always in her mind. He believed they could make a good life here. He had talked as if he could see them always being together, though he’d made no further reference to a marriage proposal since that first day. He seemed so sure that hard work and obeying the rules was the best way forward here. It was foreign to Mary. She’d always had to make her own rules, on the streets or in prison, just to survive. She’d never trusted any authorities to make good choices for her, never found them to have her best interests at heart. Though her instincts were to trust William’s judgment on these things now, she still didn’t find it easy. It taxed her mind and body and she fell into bed each night, as tired from trying to reorder her mind as she was from the physical work. Their conversations, when they found a few moments together without shirking their responsibilities, were always similar.

‘But there’s few of us ’ave any idea about makin’ gardens, plantin’ things, or buildin’, Will. It’s frustratin’, it is.’

‘I know, Mary. There’s barely enough decent tools for any of us. But, just do the best you can. The ground is hard to start with, I know. But you’ll build up your strength and, once things begin to grow, it will be satisfying. I promise.’

‘You’re full of promises, Will,’ she’d pout and then regret her rebuff. ‘I know how hard you’re working but I find it so hard.’

‘Of course you do, and believe me, building is not easy either. We’ve little in the way of building material. And making roads is not something I’ve spent much time doing.’ He’d grin, trying to lighten her up.

One morning, after two weeks of solid work, Mary was particularly disgruntled. ‘Next they’ll be expectin’ us to cut down more of those ruddy great trees an’ they’re as hard as stone.’

‘They’re not expecting women to do the chopping, Mary. It’s all going to be slow, that’s plain. But we’ve to keep at it as best we can. Time will see us in a better position. You’ll see.’

‘I’m tryin’, Will, but I’m sick of seein’ some set down their tools whenever they’re not bein’ watched. The women I’m with are more interested in lookin’ for somethin’ they can steal. They’ll ’ave us all flogged before long.’ She pushed her hair away from her forehead; the curls springing immediately back to where they’d been. Her face glistened with sweat and as she wiped at it she left a smear of dirt across her cheek.

William smiled down at her face and rubbed at the smear with his thumb. ‘Don’t be minding the lazy ones,’ he said gently. ‘There’s both good and bad men and women here. Just keep your hopes up, eh?’

‘An’ what about keepin’ our strength up? With the rations we get, we’ll be fallin’ down starved before long.’

‘Everyone from the Governor down is on food rations. We have to hang on, girl,’ William urged, his tone pleading.

‘I’m trying.’ Mary’s irritation showed in the scowl on her face. ‘But there’s already them that are usin’ stolen food and liquor to get other…well, services. A quick romp here an’ there, an extra blanket. It’s the way we all know.’

‘It’s not the way to get ahead here, Mary. Trust me. It can be different.’ William’s voice was stronger now. He put his hands on her shoulders firmly and looked into her eyes, as was his way when he wanted her to pay particular attention.

Mary nodded. She knew William was afraid she’d succumb to an easier way to survive. She wanted to reassure him but it was still hard for her not to show her irritation.

***

Within the first three weeks there were fourteen weddings. Some were conscious of the children who might be born of their escapades and some were hopeful that marriage might secure them regular comforts without payment or fear of punishment.

‘I knew that Sarah Grimes would get herself in trouble,’ Mary scoffed as they watched yet another marriage service. The Reverend Johnson had a tent specially set aside for Sunday services and weddings. He was agitating for a church building, espousing the need for the Governor to encourage religious observances. His marriage services all included a sermon on the importance of Christian values, which for him were vital to the survival of the colony.

‘Well, at least her trouble will now be confined to marriage,’ William answered.

‘Huh,’ Mary chuckled, ‘don’t be so sure. She’s as much respect for these marriage vows she’s makin’ as most of the others who’ve made them. And that’s none.’ She folded her arms tightly and pursed her lips.

‘You’re not in favour of these marriages then?’ William asked tentatively.

‘I’m in favour of people keepin’ their promises,’ she answered without looking at him. ‘And in my experience, most don’t.’

‘I see.’ William was not sure how to interpret her comment. He’d wondered these past few weeks if he should pursue the idea of marriage with her again. He was not sure if she was ready to trust him so completely. He wasn’t sure if she cared enough for him to marry him. He’d wrestled with his own feeling for her and knew it was no longer just curiousity, or a need to protect her, that drove him to seek her out. He wanted to make a life with Mary. He wanted them to be husband and wife.

‘And so let your affections from this day forward be for each other alone,’ Reverend Johnson said as he finished up the wedding service. He smiled warmly at the couple before him but it was easy to see that his heart was heavy.

It was common knowledge that most of those who were marrying so quickly after landing hardly knew each other and were deciding for the sake of convenience, or the claim of a birth on the way, to make their relations legal. How well either party would hold to what they were pledging before God was hard to say. William knew that the Reverend wanted more for these wretched people. Their lives were going to be hard. They would need the solace and guidance of God. William certainly wanted more than an appearance of respectability. He wanted what he’d never had in his life before: a real home and a real family. He wanted genuine self respect and a woman who would join him wholeheartedly in his endeavour. He wanted that woman to be Mary. Of that he had no doubt. But, he also wanted Mary to be sure she’d be contented with him for the rest of their lives. He glanced sideways at her. The set of her jaw was rigid, the wrinkle in her turned-up nose still suggested skepticism. He’d bide his time a little longer, give her space to feel his optimism and try to raise her confidence in his love.

***

Weddings weren’t the only event that drew a crowd away from the daily routine. And though many of the convicts would gladly have paused from their work for less, they were encouraged, and sometimes ordered, to be mindful of the punishments that were being metered out for the breaking of the laws being established for the colony.

Mary turned away as the lash came down again and again on the man’s back. Even the toughest of prisoners found these public thrashings hard to watch. They were all too aware how close they came each day to being in the same position. A hundred lashes for stealing a pint of milk, fifty for giving cheek to an overseer. Two hundred lashes for a prisoner who gave a back-hander to a convict girl who refused to share some time under a tree in the woods. Mary had expressed her displeasure often at these beatings, but had concurred that the latter was well deserved.

The hangings were even more disturbing for observers.

‘Frightening how easy the officers order these,’ Joe Wright whispered to William, averting his gaze at the sound of the rope being freed.

‘Yes, it is.’ William’s face was grim. ‘A life for a piece of bread and pork. Seems unjust, but with food rations as they are, the point must be made. You’ll not be dangling from any tree if you don’t deserve it, Joe.’ He turned to his young friend and tried to smile. These were grave days and he prayed no one took them lightly.

‘What a traitor that James Freeman is,’ Mary hissed on the other side of William.

‘One way to get a pardon, eh? Offering to be the hangman.’ Joe scowled, agreeing with Mary.

‘Mind, he did strike the bargain standin’ under the gallows ladder himself,’ Mary conceded. ‘He was about to be hanged for stealin’ flour. I s’pose there’s a few might’ve agreed to the same exchange.’

‘Hopefully there’s not too many like Freeman,’ William said strongly. ‘He’s not been a man to consider the plight or the rights of another. Not from the bit I’ve seen of him.’

‘Well, let’s hope we see even less of him in future, Will. I’d hate to come face to face with him where he stands now.’

‘We know how to avoid that situation, Mary. So we’ve naught to be concerned about there, have we?’ He looked into her eyes, his concern for her evident in his own.

‘You think I’m stupid?’

She seemed quite affronted and William regretted the effect of his warnings but he was also very aware that hunger was likely to drive even the well-motivated convicts to stealing. Some of them had seen the natives eating local plants and had tried to supplement their rations with these but few found them appetising. When William had offered one to Mary a couple of weeks ago she’d spat it out all over his shirt and gagged for minutes, yelling at him for giving her something that tasted like kangaroo pee. Not that she’d know what that tasted like, he’d argued, and if the green weedy leaves could save them from scurvy, then wouldn’t they do well to get used to the taste? But all to no avail. Once Mary had made up her mind there was no budging it.

He shook his head at the memory and turned to her now, the affront at his warning still evident in her expression.

‘Of course I don’t think you’re stupid,’ his voice softened. ‘But I know it’s hard some days not to be tempted by easier ways to get by. Or what seems like easier ways. I just want you to stay safe. Now let’s get out of here. We’ve seen enough that’s gruesome today.’ Together they walked back to their work places, taking the moments to feel each other’s presence, to brush hands and to pass warm glances. Both were becoming easier in each other’s company and yet still not confident enough in the other’s feelings to voice their own.

***

As the months passed the new inhabitants of Sydney Cove began to seriously doubt their survival. The Governor sent letters back to England on the ships that were returning. They were in trouble in this new and strange land. The soil was poor, the fruit trees were not yielding, livestock and poultry failed to do well, sheep were often killed by dogs, cattle got lost in the bush and much of their seed turned out to be a host of weevils. Many of the convicts were falling ill with scurvy and as food was more and more severely rationed many risked the death penalty to steal food and kill livestock.

Some, more determined to find better ways, followed the lead of the natives, who they’d watched catching fish in the bay. Surely fish would taste better than the green and purple plants, the berries and leaves that the convicts found so sour and unsatisfying. Though William and Joe made some reasonable attempts at catching fish, they had to abandon the pointy sticks which the natives used to spear the darting silver creatures. Instead they stood patiently on the rocks at the end of the cove, waiting for a fish to be lured into a trap with a small piece of bread. If they dragged the trap through the water fast enough by the thin rope they’d attached to one end, they occasionally came up with a small fish.

‘And who do you expect that to feed,’ Mary scoffed one morning, seeing William return to camp. His small catch was laughed at by men who’d had more luck catching the occasional rat, crow, or kangaroo.

Mary dropped her shovel despondently and held up a wilted carrot from the garden. She’d struggled for months to grow a few vegetables and those that had not died were thin and pale. They’d had so little sustenance from what they’d grown that most of the workers were too weak and fed up to continue trying.

‘We’ll die here,’ she said sadly as William came close. ‘They want us to die. They’ve sent no one with any skills needed here. An’ any time we’ve had a few measly veggies in this plot someone steals ’em before we get to eat ’em.’

‘The common garden plots aren’t much of a success, I’d have to agree.’ William had to try hard on days like this to keep his own spirits up.

‘They knew we wouldn’t make it. Look how many have died already. Twenty eight as of yesterday, not counting the seven children. That hospital tent is always crowded and, oh Will, we can’t keep doing this.’ She grabbed at her stomach. ‘I’m so tired of this hungry feeling. It’s so long since my belly hasn’t groaned at me all day that I forget what it’s like to have it satisfied.’

‘Now, Mary, take heart. When were we not hungry? This isn’t a new feeling for us. We just have to live with it differently. We’ll make it. I know we will’.

‘Well, I’m tired of it all. I feel sick all the time and I’m too weak to keep working like this. We didn’t have to do this in England, did we?’

‘Well it’s what we have to do here,’ he answered flatly. ‘Partly it’s our punishment, so there’s little we can do about that. But partly it’s the way we’ll get ahead. Change our lives for later. And for my part, that makes all the difference in the world.’

‘And I’m sick of the women in my tent as well,’ she went on, only half listening to him now. She’d heard his optimism over and over and today she had no mind to hear it again. ‘You think I whine! You should hear them. And none of ’em want to do a spit o’ work. They’re lookin’ for what man they can get to give ’em a loaf of bread or a cup of grog for a quick grope. Going back to their old trade, is all they want. An’ we could do better, Will. We’re hungrier here than back in Lincoln. We knew how to get a feed then, didn’t we? I don’t understand why you think we can survive any other way.’