I cried, I couldn’t help myself, but my tears did nothing to erase the nub of dread that I had for Beth and her future. Could I hope for her rescue? My friends, I knew, would do everything to get her back to South Farm. But it was true that Farmer Coad was her natural father and his crimes of the past might not be enough to keep her out of his reach. Once again, I retched and was pushed into the hay, my hands and feet bound. My hopes were fading but for one: if they had me now, they might eventually let Beth be, once they got tired of trying to raise a child and when this malign woman was out of the way.
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-One
“From distant climes, o’er wide spread seas we come,
(Though not with much eclat, or beat of drum)
True patriots all, for be it understood,
We left our country for our country’s good.”
The Barrington Prologue by Henry Carter
I was force-fed a mess of broth which clearly had a sleeping draught in it as I remember nothing of the journey to the Thames, nor even what day it was; and thereafter only hazily do I recall my aunt whispering that if I didn’t do as she directed, then word would be taken back to kill Beth. I was in no doubt that the men who accompanied us would do exactly as she ordered; and if that involved killing a child, it would be done.
As I regained consciousness, I sensed we were moving through water. I could hear and feel the sloppy lapping of waves as we pitched on the tide. The foul damp air had an underlying whiff of tar. Tilly yanked my head up by what was left of my hair and gleefully pointed out a lumbering shape wallowing deep in the water that was, she said, the hulk - where most prisoners were kept until the transport ship was ready. We went frighteningly near this monstrous vessel from where I could hear ragged cries of despair carried on the wind. I tried to shut my ears to the sounds. My blindfold had slipped down completely, so I could see it was full dark as we ploughed on through the water which was becoming fretful and turbulent, darker than the sky, with licks of yellowing foam on the crests. I felt sick but fought to keep the bitter taste down as we pulled alongside a great ship with a rope ladder hanging down.
Somehow, I was pushed up the ladder with her behind me, prodding whenever I stopped to recover myself. I remember swinging outwards as a sharp wind caught the treads before slamming back against tar pitched wood, my skin catching against razor-sharp shells and the dripping slimy weed that clung to them, their salty tang caught in my throat. I was too frightened to let go and fall into the dirty drowning water of the Thames but equally afraid to go on climbing. Eventually, I was dragged on deck, gagged, and a coarse blanket thrown over my head and shoulders as my aunt clambered up alongside me. In the darkness, I heard muttering and scuffles. The blanket slipped and I caught sight of the white faces of the two women who were being exchanged for us as they were hoisted over the edge, quickly disappearing. I didn’t hear any great splashes, so they must have been safely received in the little wherry that had carried us to the transport ship. All hope of discovery was now gone; we were exchanged for two street walkers. That was my identity now, a prostitute on a transport ship. How would I bear it, and what would happen to my Beth?
My aunt abandoned me almost immediately after our arrival, to set about taking control of the unhappy women convicts, I suspected. Clearly, she knew people aboard, but I was friendless and terrified of what was to come. A sailor, or I took him to be such but later found out he was a guard, an entirely different breed, pushed me into a cavernous and foul space that had no opening onto the outside. He prodded me forward to a stretched bit of material hung from hooks in which he indicated by means of grunts that I was to sleep. Climbing up into this swaying rope-like contraption took me some effort and time. I was still feeling sick and dazed and no-one offered to help me, so when I finally managed it, I felt some relief at my achievement.
As I lay listening to the whimpering sobs of my unknown companions, I tried to find within myself the means of survival. I thought of Wilf and his last moments as he died in my arms; I remembered the time he had lifted me out of the cart when we were trying to rescue Billy-alone from the King’s press gang. I had never had a man touch me and when his big strong hands went around my waist, I experienced the most delicious sensation of pleasure and want. Our marriage had never quickened to the joys and experiences that a loving man and woman enjoy, and I ached with sorrow as I took myself back to that time. I thought too, of Beth, my lovely Beth, who was held by those godforsaken Coads; of the Elwoods, whom I trusted would move heaven and earth to bring us back into their household; and Flossy, would they find her? None of this could I influence. My only hope was to survive for as long as possible; I had to find a way to get back home to Lewes. It was, I decided, no use fretting about what had happened. I just had to get on with my changed circumstance by getting by as best as I could and look for any opportunity to get off this ship. I knew nothing about boats, ports, or even the geography of the world, but I believed my aunt to be right when she said that my story would not be believed, that I was just one of many on board who would protest their innocence. In short, I had to somehow make the best of it.
So many hours passed in that uncomfortable swinging bed, not knowing if it were daybreak nor anywhere near. The ship rocked and rolled as I listened to groaning timbers and a distant rattle which I couldn’t identify. I thought I heard a cock crow, which seemed ridiculous. I supposed sailors got used to such lurching but I would rather have had my feet on firm ground. I wondered if there might be opportunity to jump overboard before the ship sailed and it was with that thought in mind that I must have fallen asleep; but it was restless sleep with a sullen expanse of water haunting my dreams.
***
We, the inhabitants of what is called the ’tween deck, were numbered at 39 female convicts. We were rudely woken by coarse language and brutality and were then tipped out of our hammocks if we were tardy in reacting, as I was. This manner of being woke was so violent, my whole body quivered in fright. I hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this. Everyone was converging near the hatch to an upper deck. I was behind most of my companions and the air was shrill with cursing and shrieking. As I tried to get my bearings, I was pushed and pummelled as women kept surging round me. Dishes were handed down from a hatch above us and a bowl from which food was ladled. It was everyone for themselves as hands grabbed for the ladle and those who couldn’t get it just scooped slop out of the bowl with their bare fingers. I was too slow and by the time I had got through the crush there was nothing left; I would go hungry. Orders were shouted to unhitch the hammocks and hand them up through the hatch where they were counted, as were the returned dishes. I wondered why; perhaps it was to prevent attempts at self-slaying or just to keep people moving. If all the hammocks had been left in place there would be even less room.
I looked for somewhere to sit where I could watch what was going on. Clearly some of the women were known to each other as they had mostly come from the hulk moored out on the river, and once the food had disappeared they all shifted about as if they were gossiping in a market place. I could see that some were in poor health and others were more at ease with the circumstance, but I did notice that I was not the only quiet and frightened woman. A young girl near me was trembling and her unhealthy pallor looked alarming. My aunt and I were the only healthy-looking people there, which was not surprising, I suppose, as all the others had likely been in the hulk or a gaol for some time. My skin was pock-marked but clear, no boils or eruptions. My hair was messed but clean unlike the matted locks that most of the women bore. My teeth were still my own and mostly complete, but these women barely had a tooth between them and those they had were blackened and broken thanks to hard living and probably alcohol. The woman next to me saw me looking and chuckled. How anyone could chuckle when they were in such a dire condition was beyond me.
‘You’s not one of us, then?’ she said.
‘I
suppose I am, now, but I wasn’t yesterday,’ I replied shortly.
‘What yer in for?’
‘Revenge. I was kidnapped and substituted for another last night. I can’t see how to get off, so I am one of you now. My name is Esther. What about you?’
She sighed. ‘I got caught stealing a pocket watch. I were going to sell it and buy some food, but I got picked up afore I could get rid of it. Who got put off in your place then?’
‘A night walker. I didn’t see clearly, there were two of them.’
‘Blimey, them’s the lucky ones, ain’t they!’ she said. ‘Bad luck for you, though.’
I stared around me, my eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom. ‘Is this what it was like on the hulk?’ I asked.
‘Aye, much the same, but it was more crowded and smelled rank,’ she replied. ‘We hope we will have a better time of it here. We was told we would be fed proper and allowed outside at times once the ship sails.’ She looked me up and down. ‘If I were you, lovey, I would mess yerself up a bit. You don’t look the part for all yer convict clothing and you will get picked on. You better watch out for one or two as have nothing better to do than pick fights.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, before asking the question that was at the front of my mind. ‘When do you think we will sail?’
‘Oh, it’ll be today. The sailors were all about making everything ready yesterday and the guards are really twitched, keepin’ us away from the upper deck. They won’t want anyone up there in case they jump. None of us women would do that but there are some fellas who might try it.’
‘There are men here?’ I was surprised, I don’t know why.
‘Aye, not many, but they is all ironed, just in case. This ain’t a regular transport ship so they be extra watchful.’
I was still looking at what was going on around me when I saw my aunt in close talk with a red-headed woman. They were as far away from me as it was possible to be, but I could hear them getting louder by the second. Suddenly, I saw my aunt land a blow on the other woman’s face and not to be outdone the red-head kicked out and pushed Tilly down where she proceeded to kick her repeatedly. I started to get up and then sank back. It was nothing to do with me and I owed her naught. Within a very short space of time, a whole crowd of them were fighting.
‘See what I mean,’ muttered the woman next to me. ‘You wanna stay clear of some of they. Don’t recognise that old bird, though.’
‘She was put on with me last night. I know her well. She is my aunt, my mother’s sister, and I intend to stay as far from her as I can. She murdered my husband and kidnapped me and my child.’
She looked at me curiously. ‘Oh, aye, that’s a lot of bad blood between you. Stay near me, Esther. My name is Lucy and I’ll tip you the wink if I can.’
‘I am glad to know you, Lucy. It is good to put a name to a friendly face.’ I was so appreciative at this gesture of friendship, I nearly cried.
‘The more people you know, the better it will be for you. We look out for each other against the cranky ones, like her, the red-head. She be as mean as a pack of dogs chasing a rabbit.’
She can’t be any worse than Aunt Tilly, I thought gloomily.
The anchor was lifted some hours later with a tremendous screeching noise of metal dragging on metal, and even down in the hell-hole that was our home for the foreseeable future, we could hear the racket of sailors running about and shouting. The ship pitched alarmingly and we all flopped this way and that as we tried to stay upright. There was no attempt to give us any fresh air and I felt sick and dizzy in the foetid atmosphere.
We were kept on the ’tween deck for three whole days, by which time the air had become foul and hot with so many bodies crammed together. There was no privacy, with everyone compelled to eat and perform their bodily functions in general view. I despaired and began to think I would be better off dead. The slop buckets became so full, they overflowed and then tipped over, so our feet were in the excrement. On the second day, the women seemed to sort themselves into groups and gradually some order came about. Food was distributed more fairly thanks to some who forced others to share; there clearly was some sort of hierarchy. I made no attempt to join in anything that would push me to the fore and by this method I was ignored and discounted. Lucy introduced me to one other, an older woman who was suffering badly in the heat, her breathing shallow and laboured. I quietly showed her how to slow her breathing to harvest the benefit of every gasp. For a few minutes she did as I suggested but then panic set in and she ended up gasping and fighting for breath once more. I tried again and again until she understood and mastered herself. She smiled and thanked me, and said her name was Alice. Now I had two friends.
Our lives were controlled by the guards. They delivered food and water, counted bowls and utensils down and up again, the same with hammocks, and a blanket for each, though it was often so hot that we didn’t need it on top of us, but it did make the hammock more comfortable if you lay on it. Occasionally, I saw women taken above and two at least didn’t return. Lucy reckoned they had been selected for the use of the guards or sailors who saw the women on board as one of the benefits. One came back with a black eye and bruising all around her face. Clearly, she had not submitted willingly.
One morning, about four days after we set sail, we were allowed to go up to another deck, which was wonderful: fresh air, blue sky and seabirds following closely in the wake of the ship. A group of women were given scrapers, brushes and sea water to get rid of the soil we left behind, the buckets not being adequate for our needs. While we enjoyed the freedom of the upper deck, we were being closely watched by the ship’s company and I huddled amid my fellow prisoners so I wasn’t picked out for ‘wife duty’. Others however did choose to mix and saw this as an opportunity - they flaunted themselves openly to the guards and sailors in the hope of better treatment and more food. I saw some women bare their breasts to a ragged cheer from the watching men.
After a while I became used to the smell and the itch of lice and dirt that now clung to me. We had been at sea for many days, though some of those were spent on the top deck whilst the ’tween deck was scraped clean. I never saw the male convicts, but I am sure there was some method of contact between us all as the currency of the groups was gossip and there was much of it. I volunteered to do some of the cleaning, even though my leg was hurting, because it allowed me to get my hands washed in the rinsing sea water. The lack of cleanliness was distressing to me but very few others seemed to care. Our whole day revolved around food; not much of it compared to what I was used to, but Lucy said it was better than they had on the hulk. Mostly it was a mess of soup with bits of tough meat and some vegetables bobbing about in it. You had to be careful not to spill it as the ship rose and dipped in the waves.
One morning, whilst we were up above, we were permitted to wash our clothing. Blankets were draped round to give some privacy but there were a great many men up in the rigging, more than usual, who would watch every move we made, throwing coarse comments down to their mates. None of us cared, we were past caring, we just wanted some clean dry clothing. It was on one of those occasions that I saw some other women on the ship. It seemed that some of the officers’ wives accompanied them on journeys and there were also women aboard who were clearly maids and servants. One woman in particular drew my attention. She had long hair and was well turned out compared to our sorry selves. She looked familiar somehow, but I couldn’t place her. She saw me looking and turned fully to study me before suddenly shrieking out loud, ‘Esther, why it’s Esther!’ I had no idea who she was and as I was being hustled away to return to our quarters, I lost sight of her. After that, I always looked out for her but when I didn’t see her, I came to think that it must have been a strange delusion born of despair.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Many convicts, having already spent some months in the insanitary, fever-ridden gaols or in the noisome hulks, we
re sent aboard the transports in a sickly and emaciated state and, often enough, suffering from an infectious or contagious complaint.
The Convict Ships by Charles Bateson
The following day the weather was dreadful, and we were all pitching and groaning in our quarters. Nearly everyone was sick and the pails were full and overflowing. I prayed for good weather days and a visit to the upper deck. It was difficult to tell who was being sick because of the violent seas or who were ill from other complaints, and many were. We had people amongst us who should have been isolated and treated by a doctor; I tried to help where I could. Somehow it had become known that I was a nurse though I had told only Lucy, but in truth there was not much that could be done without medicaments or even clean water.
One morning, I got up the courage to approach one of the friendlier guards and ask if there were any medical supplies on board to help with an outbreak of sickness and runs. He told me to mind my own business but came back later with another man, an officer who thrust his way through the women towards me. He was a tall, thin man with a hard stare and as he looked down on me, I felt a quiver of apprehension. Was it wise to have stepped forward, away from the safety of the shadows? They pushed me roughly over to one side but even so some of the ladies gathered around us, ready and able to hear what was going on.
‘Your name is Esther Coad, is that correct?’ said the officer.
Deeply shocked that my real name was known to this man, rather than that of the night-walker I had replaced, I replied, ‘It is the name I was born with. I was only married for one month, so I don’t use my husband’s name – nobody knows me by that.’
Retribution Page 11
