Prison Ship (17 page)

When I walked over the quayside towards the Rocks in the afternoon I looked up to see Lizzie Borrow. I had only glimpsed her from a distance since the day we had met her before. Seeing her now I was struck again by how beautiful she was. Today she wore a plain white cotton dress with a short brown jacket that drew attention to the curve of her back and slight swell of her hips. She looked magnificently sullen, waiting outside a harbour-front shop that sold boating and fishing material.

I didn't want to talk to her. I needed to feel strong and
confident to talk to Lizzie Borrow. Today was not a good day. I put my head down and walked close to the waterside so as to place a distance between us.

‘Oh Sam!' she called over.

Her bright blue eyes peered from under a bright red bonnet. ‘The Lieutenant is attending to his nautical requirements,' she said in a delightfully mocking manner, ‘and I'm wishing I'd stayed at home with a good book.' She looked out of place in this rough world. ‘And Sam, I hear you're living with Doctor Sadler, as well as that American fellow.' She had remembered my name and forgotten Richard's!

Our backs to the shop, shading our eyes from the sun, we fell into easy conversation. I forgot my troubles and could have chatted with Lizzie for hours. I heard the bell of the shop door ping and a rough hand pushed me to one side so hard I fell to the floor.

‘Is this urchin bothering you, Miss Borrow?' It could only be Lieutenant John Gray.

I caught the expression on Lizzie's face. She was looking at Gray with utter bewilderment. I was so angry at being humiliated I rushed back on my feet, determined to punch him. He sidestepped my clumsy attack and drew his sword, holding the blade under my chin so hard it broke the skin. I wondered whether he was going to cut my throat then and there. His eyes were full of dull contempt. I could smell spirits on his breath and he
seemed unsteady on his feet.

‘Threatening an officer of the Crown –' he got no further. Richard had been following close behind trying to catch me up, and had seen the whole incident. He grabbed a walking stick from a pile laid out in front of the shop next door, and deftly knocked the sword from Gray's hand. It clattered to the ground and in the terrible silence that followed, everyone at the quayside turned to look.

How the incident would have played itself out if a squad of soldiers had not been passing by, I do not know. Perhaps Gray would have drawn his dagger or picked up his sword and slain Richard on the spot. Instead, looking to rescue himself from embarrassment, he snarled, ‘Sergeant, arrest these two ragamuffins at once.'

A second later, Richard and I were both staring down the barrels of six muskets. ‘You're looking at a flogging, if you're lucky,' said Gray. We were marched to the guardhouse up the hill from the quay and left to stew in a small cell for the rest of the day. We both felt sick in the pit of our stomach at the thought of a flogging. I wondered how many lashes they'd give two boys and whether we'd be able to stand up to the punishment? I remembered the steward, Hartley, aboard the
Miranda
, and how he had died after a mere thirty-six lashes. We both knew the cat o' nine tails here were larger and more
wicked implements than the Navy ones.

Doctor Dan came to see us that evening, carrying a couple of pork pies and a flagon of ale. As we ate and drank, he talked to us softly and quickly. He'd obviously been busy. ‘I heard what happened,' he said, cutting off our attempts to explain. ‘Now I think I can get you off a flogging, but this will mean a sentence to an outlying farm. You're probably looking at seven years –'

‘But he attacked me!' I said, trying to hold back my tears. ‘He was going to kill me.'

Dan shook his head. ‘The New South Wales Corps have an inordinate amount of influence here, Sam. Lieutenant Gray is prominent among them. Even the Governor is wary of the Corps, and lives in fear of an army revolt. However, I know the Magistrate – I looked after his wife when she nearly died in childbirth – so he owes me a favour. And if we get your friend the Reverend Graham to put in a good word for you too, I think we can get you off a flogging. But I can't get you off a further sentence.'

Richard spoke. ‘I'd rather have a flogging than a seven-year sentence.'

Dan shook his head. ‘It's usually a flogging
and
a seven-year sentence. And a hundred lashes strapped to a triangle could cripple a couple of lads like you for life.'

An awkward silence descended. What else could we say?

Dan left us with a promise. ‘I'll see what I can do, but I'm still a convict myself. Let's look on the bright side. The Navy office can say you're exemplary workers. Maybe, if the right things get said to the right people, we'll be able to reduce your sentence by a few years.'

That night we could find few words to say to each other. ‘You didn't have to get involved Richard,' I said to him sorrowfully.

‘I wasn't going to see him stick a sword in your throat,' he said.

The ale and food had made me drowsy and I was soon asleep. But I woke in the middle of the night. Ahead of us were seven years of hard labour – cutting down trees, hauling ploughs as human beasts of burden, clearing bushland. And we would probably have to work side by side with the most villainous men in the colony.

Richard could tell from my breathing I was awake. ‘I can't sleep either,' he said in a matter of fact way. ‘We've been in worse scrapes before. Whatever's in front of us can't be any worse than going into battle or being brought out to be hanged. We'll be all right Sam, as long as we stick together.'

We were brought before the court in little more than a week. Our fate was quickly decided. We were to be sent
to the farm of a Benjamin Perrion, at Green Hills on the Hawkesbury River, forty miles north of Sydney.

Doctor Dan had done his work. The Magistrate told us we were very lucky to escape a flogging, but due to our youth he would forgo this punishment for attacking an officer of the crown.

Soon after dawn the next day we were shackled with chains on our ankles and placed on a small horse-drawn cart. Two soldiers, unsmiling and silent, sat next to us with bayonets fixed to their muskets.

We headed west away from Sydney and I felt a great pang of helplessness as the town receded with every clop of the horse's hooves. We were leaving behind our home, our friends, and the good life we were beginning to enjoy, and most of all, the protection of Doctor Dan.

The dirt road was poor and made for a rough ride, but at least there was a road. After midday one of the soldiers stood up and shouted, ‘Savages!', and fired off a shot into the bush that surrounded us. ‘They'll eat your liver for breakfast boys, if they ever catch you,' he said as he swabbed out his musket and loaded another cartridge and shot.

We travelled on with barely a break, and reached the Hawkesbury River at dusk. It was a strangely comforting sight seeing the settlement after an entire day surrounded by a wild landscape. On the slopes running down to the far side of the river was a cluster of buildings
with lamps burning in the windows. Some were brick, others mere huts, similar to the one we had lived in on the Rocks. We passed a group of natives huddled around a fire. They seemed hardly aware of us even being there.

As far as I could see in the fading light, the land around the settlement was all cleared and some of the fields were under cultivation. Then I remembered what we had been sent here to do. It would be us doing the clearing – hauling away timber and breaking up the ground. I shuddered again at our misfortune. There would be seven years of this before we would be allowed to return to Sydney.

The cart stopped, we clambered off in our chains, and boarded a small ferry. Quickly transported across the river, we were marched up the steep river bank and taken to a small hut. I thought we were going to be fed, but I was wrong.

We were left with our thoughts. I lay awake seething at my own stupidity and wondering what manner of man Benjamin Perrion would be.

We were roused at dawn by our escort and taken in our chains to a farm further down the river from the main settlement at Green Hills. My empty stomach gurgled and groaned, and I felt light-headed from hunger. Shuffling along the dusty road in the chill early morning, it was cold enough to see our breath. Bright sunshine cast long shadows over the dewy fields and I noticed how beautiful the countryside was. There were young apple, apricot and peach trees, all brought from England, sitting side by side with the most handsome native shrubs. This was a land of plenty,
and I could see at once why settlers had come to this spot to farm. All around, tilled fields lay prepared for the coming winter, close to granaries filled with sacks of grain.

How wonderful it would have been to have come here as free men rather than Perrion's slaves. I tried not to dwell too much on the terrible reversal in our fortunes. Perhaps I was not meant for an easy life?

We walked down a dried mud path to an impressive brick building surrounded by several smaller stores and huts. ‘There you are boys, Charlotte Farm. Make the most of it,' said one of the soldiers. A small dog came bounding up the path to greet us, barking excitedly and wagging its tail as if possessed. Richard was confident with dogs and offered a hand for it to sniff. The dog licked it, and jumped up to be petted.

‘Some guard dog this is,' said Richard.

Bustling around the veranda of a single-storey brick house was a stout ruddy-faced man. Curly white hair sprouted from the side of his balding head, and I judged him to be fifty or so. He seemed to be bursting with mithering impatience. ‘Tinker, come back here at once, you wretched animal,' he roared.

He turned to look at us, then shouted into the house. ‘They've sent us two boys. I asked for some good solid brutes and I get boys. Marvellous, marvellous.'

This must be Benjamin Perrion.

He turned to greet us. ‘Good morning boys. Have you had breakfast?' His manner was pleasant enough, as though we were not meant to have heard his previous remarks. ‘Charlotte! Tell Heaton to bring bread and scotch coffee.'

The house looked luxurious compared with our spartan hut in Sydney, and I glimpsed inside with envy. There was a tiled floor, wallpaper, soft furnishings. I hadn't seen furniture like this since leaving England.

A moment later a large, thickset man walked round from the other side of the house. Perrion said, ‘This is William O'Brian, my farm manager.'

O'Brian spoke with a slow, country drawl. Beneath his floppy, dark hair, his eyes seemed kind, even sensitive. In his manner too, he was oddly diffident for someone whose job it was to instil fear in his charges.

‘You boys behave yourself and you'll be treated right. Mess me around and we'll have to beat you.' He didn't sound convincing.

Richard asked, ‘Do we work with our chains on? We'd get a lot more done with them off.'

O'Brian let him finish before he rapped him on the back with a switch he kept in his boot. ‘You'll talk when you're spoken to,' he said. But the blow was barely more than a tap. It was almost as if O'Brian had been told that was how he should treat his convict labourers, but didn't have the heart to do so. ‘If I feel I can trust
you, the chains will come off. We'll have to see, won't we?'

‘You get fed by the job here, boys,' Perrion said. ‘Clear me an acre of timber in a week, or break up an acre of ground and that's your full rations guaranteed. You'll sleep in the hut next to the granary. You can chop your own wood for the fire. O'Brian will give you blankets. See him when the clothes fall off your backs. If you work well, we'll keep you. If you're troublesome or lazy, we'll send you to the iron gangs. Think on. I'm not a sentimental man so don't let me down. Now have some breakfast and then you can start felling those rubber trees over there.'

An old woman in a filthy overall came out with a couple of mugs of scotch coffee and a hunk of bread and cheese, and we were left alone to eat. ‘Rum bunch, these settlers. They seem too soft to be out here with the re-offenders,' commented Richard. ‘Wonder who else works here? Half the people we know down in the Rocks would eat these two alive.'

As we ate, a woman in her thirties with lank, wispy hair came out of the house and nodded to us. Although her clothes were well cared for and she was obviously the mistress of the house, she had a blank, defeated look about her. This must be Charlotte. She had once been attractive, I could see that, but something about her life here had ground her down. Two young girls peeped
round her skirt and stared at us mournfully.

O'Brian arrived with a couple of axes. We shuffled after him into the nearby field, where we could see two other men dragging a fallen tree down to the river. ‘Mr Perrion's just bought these riverside fields, and you'll be clearing them for pasture,' he said.

‘Please sir,' I asked, wondering if he would hit me like he had hit Richard, ‘if we have to wear chains, could you give us some cloth to wrap around them, so as not to rub our ankles raw, sir?' Mine were already hurting, and the weight was draining the strength from my legs.