The Marriage Certificate (8 page)

At six in the evening,
RMS
Kidwelly Castle
left her berth and headed down Southampton Water towards
the Solent and the English Channel. It was another cold clear night. Darkness
had fallen by half past four, just as she had finished loading her compliment
of passengers and equipment. In place of her normal first class, second class,
and steerage passengers, she had taken on board about 1,500 officers and men,
part of the newly formed City Imperial Volunteers. Many of them, like Frank
Williams, were clerks or men from the middle classes. Most had some military
training. The CIV consisted of a battalion of infantry, two mounted infantry
companies, and a Vickers-Maxim machine gun battery.

The men had travelled by train from London and then marched
the short distance from the rail terminus to the dockside, where they had
formed up in orderly lines, to await embarkation in company order. Loaded with
packs and weapons, they had to stand in the cold for some time before ascending
the gangplank and being shown to their billets in the warm interior of the
ship. John Williams had managed to gain a few moments on deck from time to time
during the day. He was certain he had spotted his brother at one point, waiting
his turn to board. Unfortunately, Frank had not been looking up in John’s
direction, but he would of course have known by now that he was on John’s ship
and would no doubt make himself known at the first opportunity.

An hour after departure, John left the engine room for a few
minutes to go back up on deck. Men were to be seen in small groups, discussing
where they were and how far out from land. The lights of Ventnor were just
visible. For most, this was their first trip on an ocean-going vessel. Looking
one deck below, he could see lit cigarettes and outlines of solitary
individuals, arms on the railing, lost in their own thoughts.
How many of
these poor devils will come back in similar condition to the wounded we
repatriated on our last trip?
John wondered. It made him shudder, even more
so, when he thought of Frank and where he was going.

He looked across to Ventnor, recalling that only three days before,
he had been there with his new wife, looking out to sea from the esplanade. His
parents’ hotel was somewhere in the distance, just one of the many buildings
with a gas light outside, just one among the collection of lights which
revealed the location of the town.

John returned to his cabin and found a note from Frank stuck
under the door. It confirmed that he was on board and gave his cabin number.
John knew he would be sharing with at least three other men. It was late, so he
decided to turn in and leave contacting his brother until the following day.

Twenty-four hours later, crossing the notorious Bay of
Biscay, the ship was in the grip of poor weather and rough seas. Many of the
soldiers were seasick. When his duty was over, John went to Frank’s cabin and
found him absent, but was told that he was in the temporary mess room. Sure
enough, there he was, unperturbed by the motion of the ship, playing cards with
a number of comrades. He stood and introduced his brother, adding with pride
that he was Chief Engineer. His mates seemed genuinely impressed, for the
recently commissioned ship was modern and well appointed, albeit a little
crowded, carrying twice the number of passengers for which she was originally
designed.

Frank wanted to talk privately, so he passed his hand to one
of the others and suggested to John that they go back to John’s cabin.

The cabin was small but perfectly adequate. Frank noticed
the portrait photograph of Louisa on the bedside locker. He sat down on the bed
and John pulled up the single chair, opening the conversation with: ‘Well, how
are you getting on? You seem to have installed yourself pretty well.’

‘Fine, thanks. Beautiful ship, I must say. Do you think you
could give me a tour of the engine room sometime? It must be pretty impressive,
if the rest of her is anything to go by.’

‘Of course, of course, plenty of time for that, but first of
all, have you been told where you’re going, once we put you ashore in Cape
Town?’

‘Nothing official yet, but you can imagine the rumour mill
is running at full speed. What about you? Haven’t you heard something? I
thought you might know. I’ve seen your First Officer talking to some of our
officers.’

‘Nobody’s said anything to me,’ replied John. ‘They’re
keeping pretty tight-lipped about it. In fact, I’m not sure they know too much
either. I suppose you’ll be getting your orders from Lord Roberts or Lord
Kitchener when you get down there.’

‘I assume so,’ confirmed Frank.

‘How are they treating you? What happened on Thursday?’

‘Well, it was all rather amazing. After reporting for duty,
we received our uniforms and rifles. Then we attended a formal ceremony with
the Lord Mayor of the City of London. You know that the Financial Institutions
and Guilds are sponsoring us?’

John nodded and Frank continued. ‘We were given Freedom of
the City, before a farewell service at St. Paul’s, followed by, would you
believe, dinner at the Inner Temple.’

John looked impressed.

‘We stayed in barracks Thursday and Friday night. Yesterday
morning, we had parade at four, which was a bit of a struggle. Then we marched
to Nine Elms to get the trains for Southampton. So far, it’s all been good.
They made a real fuss of us before we left, almost like heroes and that’s
before we’ve done any fighting. God knows what it will be like, if they give us
a victory parade when we get back … but enough of this military talk, why don’t
you find that little bottle of whisky I know you always keep for emergencies?’

John grinned and opened a cupboard to retrieve a bottle and
two glasses. He poured a couple of generous measures.

‘Come on,’ continued Frank. ‘I want to know how the
honeymoon went! Did you manage to escape the cold outside and spend plenty time
in bed? Mind you, you’d already had some of that sort of fun hadn’t you, but did
it continue?’

‘We had a great time and it was so nice to be together.
Mother and father left us very much to do as we pleased, which was good of
them. What about you? Did the lovely Rose succumb to your charm? You seemed to
be getting along fine at the reception.’

‘Did she ever? I can’t believe it John; I think I’m in
love!’

‘What? You? Surely not!’

‘Yes, I mean it. We spent the evening at Apsley Street after
the wedding and then again, on the Wednesday evening before I left. John, she’s
gorgeous and she’s interesting and funny. I really mean it! She’s the one thing
about home that I’m missing. When we get back in the autumn, if she’s still
keen, I’m going to ask her to marry me!’

John recoiled in shock. ‘Good God! You have got it bad! Rose
is a lovely girl. Louisa would be thrilled. When you say you went back to
Apsley Street, does that mean what I think it might mean?’

‘Certainly does! John, she’s fantastic, just what I’ve
always wanted. You never told me how nice she was!’

‘Well, you know what they say, about beauty and the eye of
the beholder. I suppose I’m so besotted with Louisa, I didn’t think to mention
it, but I agree with you, Rose is lovely and you could do a good deal worse.
You’ll need to watch her though. She’s quite ambitious and there’s something
else you ought to consider.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Well, what if Rose ends up in the same predicament as
Louisa?’

‘Ah, yes, I’ve already considered that.’

‘It’s possible then?’

‘Well, yes I suppose there is that chance, but if so, I will
definitely stand by her and marry her, no question. Actually though, there’s
something I need to ask you?’

‘Yes … what’s that?’

‘Look, I know I’m going to be all right, but I made a will a
few months ago. Well, I don’t have much, just some cash savings … about
forty-five pounds and a few shares, but I’ve left everything to you.’

‘Well that’s decent of you, but I wouldn’t like to think
that I would ever actually inherit it.’

‘I’m sure it won’t come to that, but if the worst did happen
and I end up getting shot or something, and Rose turns out to be pregnant, do
you think you could give her some of the cash to help her out? I know it’s a
lot to ask, but when I made the will, I hadn’t met Rose and now it just seems
that things in my life have changed. I’m sure that if mum and dad knew Rose was
carrying my child, they’d help as well. I wouldn’t want all the responsibility
to fall to you. You’ve got your own life to get on with.’

‘That’s good of you to say, but of course, in such
circumstances we’d see her right. Don’t worry. Louisa certainly wouldn’t leave
Rose to cope on her own, as an unmarried mother. We’d sort something out … but
anyway it’s all hypothetical, let’s not dwell on it any longer.’

John refilled their glasses. ‘I’d like to propose a toast …
to your safe return and if you don’t change your mind and if she is willing to
have you, to your marriage to Rose!’

‘Cheers!’ They clinked their glasses in unison.

Three days after leaving
Southampton, the
Kidwelly Castle
docked briefly in Funchal, Madeira. Her
stopover gave the men the opportunity to stretch their legs and take a brief
tour ashore. Some of them used the short stay to wander around the market,
marvelling at the quality and abundance of fresh fish and homegrown produce on
display. Many bought fruit and were amazed at how much cheaper it was than back
in London.

Out at sea once more, the weather was glorious; blue skies
and a moderate swell. The men were measured up for olive drab khaki uniform;
gone were the days of crimson tunics and conspicuous accoutrements. It was now
about camouflage, making the soldiers a more difficult target, for the sharp
shooting skills of the Boers.

A feature of the mounted troopers’ uniform was the slouch
hat turned up on the left. Apart from greater sun protection, the troopers
enjoyed wearing it because it distinguished them from the infantrymen.

The following day, they passed the island of Tenerife, the
volcanic peaks capped with winter snow and two days later, they spotted flying
fish and porpoises as they passed Cape Verde. The day they crossed the equator
and entered the southern hemisphere, they celebrated with an evening band
concert.

The ship had a small pool deck, where the men could take a
weekly bath. Drill sessions occurred twice daily and late afternoons were given
over to sports activities. Church parade took place on both Sundays that they
were at sea.

The men were offered inoculation against enteric fever.
Frank and his messmates discussed whether or not to opt for it.

‘I’ve heard you get a dose of enteric just from the serum.
It can be right nasty,’ Charlie Mills warned. ‘If it stopped bullets I might be
interested, but I reckon I’ll take my chances.’

‘Must admit, I feel the same,’ said Frank. ‘I know the
disease is pretty rife down there, but I don’t trust these injections.’

They both decided to forgo inoculation and felt vindicated
when several of their inoculated comrades were feverish for a few days
afterwards. 

The men were able to buy postcards on board, postcards with
a picture on the front of the
RMS Kidwelly Castle
. Frank bought some, as
well as asking his brother for some writing paper and envelopes. He had decided
to write to Rose, to tell her how he felt.

Finally, seventeen days after leaving Southampton, and
exactly on schedule, as required under her duties as a Royal Mail Ship, the
Kidwelly
Castle
entered Table Bay and arrived in Cape Town on the 7 February 1900.

The troops and their kit were unloaded and marched directly
to Green Point Common where they pitched camp. There in the following few days,
the mounted troopers were issued with saddles and horses. Rifle practice and
training took place around the clock. Practice parades were held. Two days
after landing, they took part in their first fully mounted parade. Dressed in
khaki uniform with slouch hats, they trooped their colours before Lord Roberts.

On the eve of their departure into the interior, Frank took
out one of the postcards he had purchased on his brother’s ship. He wrote
carefully across the lower right-hand corner of the front of the card, in the
space created by the white foam, displaced by the bow of the steaming ship:

10th February, 1900. Dear John
and Louisa. Setting off for Orange River tomorrow. All in good cheer. Love to
you both. Frank.

He handed it over for posting, got down under his blankets
and tried to get some sleep. The next day, they broke camp, mounted up and set
off for the railhead, where along with their horses and equipment, they boarded
a troop train and departed for the front.

Rose got up, as usual, at
six-thirty. It was the last day of February. She washed before dressing and
going along the landing to wake the other girls. Rose was worried. She was more
than three weeks late. She had never missed before and this morning as she went
downstairs to the privy, she felt a little nauseous. She was tired too, and the
thought of working all day in the shop did nothing to improve her mood.

She ate a small piece of bread for breakfast, anxiously
hoping that none of the other staff noticed her lack of appetite. The smell of
the hot kippers that Mrs Jones had placed in the centre of the table very
nearly made her sick, but she managed to control herself. Fortunately, the
steam from the fish rose in a plume, which drifted away from her, towards the
other side of the table. The girls chatted and gossiped.

‘Here, Mrs Jones, what do you think about this Ada Chard
Williams case on at the Bailey? Do you reckon she’s guilty?’ Hilda asked.

‘No doubt in my mind she is,’ came Mrs Jones’ reply, as she
bustled about with more toast and tea. ‘Hanging’s too good for her … taking
five pounds off some poor unmarried mother to find the child another home and
then murdering it instead. Baby farming … that’s what it is, buying and selling
babies for profit. Shouldn’t be allowed.’

Rose remained silent during the conversation although inside
she felt tormented. Why was it that everyone was talking about babies and
unmarried mothers?

‘You all right, Miss Rose?’ Daisy asked. ‘You’re quiet.
You’re not going down with a cold, are you?’

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ replied Rose. ‘Just feeling a little
under the weather, but I’m sure it’ll pass. If you don’t mind, I’m going to
excuse myself. I have some things to attend to.’

With that, she left the breakfast table and returned to her
room. She still felt queasy, but was certain that she wasn’t going to be sick.
She sat on her bed and opened the drawer of the washstand. She took out an
envelope and unfolded the letter it contained.

30th January 1900. RMS Kidwelly
Castle

Dearest Rose

I hope you are well. I am
writing this to you from the deck of the RMS Kidwelly Castle, John’s ship, just
as we thought. We are ten days out from Southampton and crossed the equator
yesterday. I am fine and in good spirits. The weather is very sunny and the sea
is calm.

Dearest Rose, I am missing you
such an awful lot. I keep thinking back to the time we spent together. I am so
very fond of you Rose and I hope you feel the same way about me. They say
absence makes the heart grow fonder and I can truly say that I agree
whole-heartedly. I have never felt about anyone, the way that I feel about you.

Will you still want to see me
when I return? I hope so, Rose, I hope so very much. Everyone here says we’ll
be back in no time, certainly by the autumn. It’s not long to wait.

I had a chat to John the other
evening. He said they had a good time in Ventnor and marriage is suiting him
well. Send my regards to Louisa, when you see her.

I will post this on board, so
you should receive it around the 26th February, when the ship returns to
Southampton.

You are constantly in my
thoughts and I am looking forward to returning and to seeing you again.

Yours, most truly,

Frank.

PS. If you care to write, my
address is: Trooper F. Williams, 94 Company, Mounted Metropolitan Rifles, CIV,
Natal. South Africa.

The letter had arrived the previous day. Rose had cried when
she first read it. The tears were of joy mixed with relief. Frank obviously
felt the same way about her as she felt about him. The three preceding weeks
had been awful. She knew she might be pregnant as soon as she realised she had
definitely missed her menses. During those three weeks, a range of feelings
from hope to despair had played on her mind, as she had considered her
situation. Surely, Frank would stand by her and marry her? That solution was the
best and most acceptable, as far as she was concerned, but what if he didn’t
want to do the honourable thing? What if he didn’t want to marry her, or even
know her? What if he never returned to England? Worst of all, what if he was
killed?

The previous week, the British press had carried reports of
the CIV coming under fire for the first time and how gallantly they had
behaved. War was dangerous and Rose was fearful for Frank’s safety. Being
pregnant and unmarried would mean that she would lose her job and her
accommodation. With no livelihood and no roof over her head, where would she
go? The workhouse, she kept imagining. She would never achieve her ambitions.

She had even considered some drastic solutions. She could
try to seduce Mr Crockford. She knew he had a liking for her as she had noticed
his admiring glances. One had only to hear the way he jealously reprimanded
Sidney if he caught him flirting with her. However, Mr Crockford was far too
decent and old-fashioned to fall for any ruse to entrap him and she had
discounted the idea as preposterous and totally out of the question.
Furthermore, of late, he seemed to have a growing eye for the beautiful
Constance, Louisa’s replacement, so her chances in that direction were probably
fading anyway.

Rose had also thought about ridding herself of the
pregnancy. She had heard that Mr Harvey, the chemist, stocked a patent remedy
to restore ‘irregularity and suppression’ but she didn’t feel brave enough to
make a purchase and certainly tongues would wag. Her best option, if she had to
decide on such a course, would be to find a mail order supplier of such
remedies.

Of course, there was another way: it would necessitate a
trip back to central London, to ask if any of the girls she used to work with
could put her in touch with a doctor willing to operate on her, but she hoped
that it wouldn’t come to that. Besides, abortion was illegal.

Rose’s most fervent hope, until she received Frank’s letter,
had been that she might miscarry naturally, but for now much of her despair had
dissipated. The feeling of panic and utter helplessness had gone. She was still
very worried, but not nearly as much. She needed to write in reply and tell him
what was happening.

Rose spent the next evening writing her first letter to
Frank. It was difficult for her to know what to say, or how to say it, but she
took her cue from the tone of his letter and decided to tell him why she was so
anxious.

28th February 1900, Leyton,
Essex

Dearest Frank

Thank you so much for your
letter. I am also missing you terribly and can barely wait until you return.
Life in the shop is different now. Louisa is no longer here, so I don’t have
her to talk to. Mr Crockford has employed a new girl, Constance, to look after
the Ladies’ Department. She seems quite nice, but it’s not the same.

I don’t want to alarm you, but I
think you ought to know. I believe that I am going to have a child. I haven’t
told anyone, not even Louisa. I haven’t been to a doctor either, but I am
fairly sure. I missed at the beginning of this month and just recently have
been feeling sick, which is usually an indication and confirmation.

I have been so worried, but
after receiving your letter I feel somewhat relieved. I feel exactly the same
way about you, but I hope this news does not reduce your affection and regard
for me. What should I do? Will you still want to see me when you come back or
will this change things between us?

Please reply by return if you
can. I need to know how you feel. It may not be too late to consider the
alternative, but time is limited.

I hope you are looking after
yourself and keeping your head down. What are the conditions like? Have you
seen any Boers? I’ve been keeping my eye on the news board outside the
newsagents for any mention of the CIV.

Please be careful.

Your dearest love,

Rose.

A little more than a week later,
Sidney arrived one morning with news, which almost made Rose lose her
composure. It was part of his job to bring Mr Crockford’s daily paper when he
arrived for duty each morning. As he breezed into the shop, he mentioned the
morning headlines, unaware of the significance of them to Rose.

‘Blimey, those CIV boys soon got stuck in down there.
Headline says, “13 CIV Wounded and Taken Prisoner at Britstown”. Reckon they
might have bitten off more ’an they can chew. They’re no pushover, them Boers.
My dad told me some of the tricks they’ve been gettin’ up to … shockin’, quite
shockin’, if I don’t mind sayin’ so.’

Rose almost panicked but tried to remain calm. ‘Here let me
have a quick look, will you? Miss Louisa’s brother-in-law is a trooper in the
CIV and he’s down there at the moment.’

 She quickly scanned the details. At least it seemed that no
one had been killed and there was no mention of any mounted troopers being
involved. The fighting had taken place two days before and the headlines were
testimony to the marvels of the telegraph communication between London and Cape
Town. The story unsettled her and she knew her unease, along with that of
Frank’s family, would continue until it was known definitely that Frank was
safe.