Retribution

by Beverley Elphick

‘Well, the thing is, Miss or Mrs., whichever you are, there is no-one supposed to be on this ship with that name.’

  ‘Oh,’ I muttered. Was this my chance?

  ‘How do you account for yourself?’ His tone was icy and insistent. ‘I want you to explain how you come to be here.’ I trembled, not sure what to do or say, but say something I must, and quickly.

  ‘I was forced here, against my will,’ I blurted out. ‘I am not a convict but a woman who has suffered a monstrous wrong at the hands of others, one of whom is on this boat masquerading as a convict.’

  The women nearby all gasped and began repeating my comments back through the throng.

  ‘You will forgive me if I say that your story defies belief,’ he sneered, ‘but I have been given reason to question you. You will accompany me to the upper deck. Come.’

  I was wedged between them as the guard forced his way back through the women who moved aside reluctantly. I clambered up the ladder after him and as I was about to leave the ghastly conditions behind me, I looked back at my fellow prisoners. Every eye was on me, every emotion on the faces that followed me - curiosity, jealousy, envy - and from my aunt, something else, perhaps even fear, as our eyes locked. I clutched at my threadbare clothing as I hurried behind the lanky, stern man. I was ashamed of how I looked - my shorn hair, how I smelled, how my skin crawled with lice - and it came home to me how much like a convict I had become.

  We stood out on the deck and I gulped fresh air into my lungs, rejoicing in the feel of a gentle sun on my back.

  ‘How do you know my name?’ I asked, before he had a chance to speak.

  ‘We will come to that,’ he said, ‘once I have established who was involved in putting you here.’

  I was shocked and disappointed that he wasn’t interested in the wrong done to me but rather who, on this ship, had been bribed and who else knew about it.

  ‘I have no idea who knows about me,’ I said. ‘My aunt, a woman called Tilly Kempe, who is also aboard, is wanted for crimes that would see her executed should she be caught. She is a notorious smuggler and recently escaped from Newgate prison,’ I went on. ‘Her arm is long. It was she that bribed us onto this ship. We came aboard the night before we sailed, and two night-walkers were taken off. It was a simple substitution, but I was forced into it by her use of drugs and blackmail. She threatened my child with death. She is the very devil,’ I swore vehemently, as I sought to convince the officer of my terrible predicament.

  ‘So, you know the names of these night-walkers that you and she are supposed to have replaced?’ he asked, sarcastically. Clearly, he didn’t believe me.

  ‘No, I do not. My aunt didn’t tell me their names and I am not sure she knew them herself. Possibly she hadn’t thought further than getting on the ship - for her it was an escape from certain execution. But I can’t be expected to answer for her.’

  He looked out towards the great ocean, wrinkling his brow and pursing his lips before going on, ‘And what were you going to do when we get to Australia?’

  His voice had changed slightly, his tone less hectoring; perhaps I was getting through to him.

  ‘I don’t know. My only thought has been to find a way off this ship and get back to my life in Lewes. Please, I have a child. She was stolen by my aunt and is in great danger,’ I started to break down as I said this, tears stinging my eyes. ‘Please, can you help me, please?’

  ‘It is not as easy as that, Miss. We are contracted to take 39 women convicts to Australia and just because you tell me you are not a convict doesn’t mean that I should believe you and set you free,’ he said, impatiently. ‘You could be selling me a cock and bull story, for all I know. Until I have proof otherwise, you remain a convict.’

  Tears spilled from my eyes. Brushing them away, I heard myself begging him, ‘Please help me. My baby - her name is Beth - her life is in great danger from my aunt’s smuggling gang.’

  I could see he was getting exasperated at my emotion and for a moment he seemed perplexed.

  Then he said, abruptly, ‘Even if I had proof, I couldn’t just release you against the judgement of a court of law. Either way, you would have to be delivered, as a convict, to the Governor at our destination. It would be for him to establish who you are and whether you can be returned to England and the courts.’

  I crumpled to the floor, defeated. My limpy leg was trapped under me at an awkward angle and I couldn’t help gasping as a stab of pain shot up into my hip. He saw me wince and this time I saw real doubt in his eyes.

  His voice softened slightly as he told me to rise. I did so, pressing my hands to the deck to get some leverage in lifting myself up. I looked downwards, not wanting to be further exposed in my misery and struggling to suppress my anguish.

  ‘There is a woman on board,’ he went on, ‘who says she knows you and has given us an account of your history. She declares you to be Esther Coad, of Lewes in the county of Sussex, and that you are not a convict.’

  ‘Who is this woman? What is she to me?’ I asked, taken aback at such a likelihood, but then I remembered the woman on deck whom I thought had shouted out my name – but later discounted it as too unlikely to be true.

  ‘Her name is Sarah. She is the doxy of one of our crew members - not an officer but a senior crewman. She is a convict like you and has found an easy billet in hitching up with our man. Such women get certain privileges,’ he said, with contempt in his voice. ‘It is not a legal or acknowledged situation, but the captain takes a pragmatic view of it so that his crew are kept happy on a long and difficult voyage. She has been on this ship for a while, and as long as the crewman wants her, then she keeps her freedom from delivery to Australia. A lot of convicts die on these journeys and numbers get blurred.’ He shrugged.

  ‘You say a ‘convict’ like me, except I am not a convict,’ I insisted. ‘But, Sarah - yes, I briefly met a Sarah in Lewes! She was tried and sentenced to be transported. I visited her in the cells and gave her a small gift. I felt sorry for her.’

  It was strange to know that I had friends on board and one that was above deck as well as Lucy and Alice below. I struggled to believe that my short acquaintance with Sarah could have such a direct effect on my life. I hoped to meet and thank her, and my thanks would come from the bottom of my heart.

  ‘Well,’ he said, dryly, ‘your kindness seems to have been reciprocated in testimony from this woman that you are not who we thought you to be. But, you must understand, we cannot just undo a court order. You need to go through official channels to get yourself declared a victim of mistaken identity, kidnap, or whatever. Now,’ he said, in a brisker tone, ‘I must take steps to locate the crewman or men who enabled this situation. If they support your story, it will help your case. If they don’t, and that is far more likely, then you will have to find some other way of establishing who you are. Sarah’s testimony will not be enough, as she is a convict.’

  I clutched his arm. ‘Do I have to go back down below?’ I pleaded. ‘I am afraid of my aunt. She will not like this turn of events. She is a truly wicked woman, she murdered my husband and kidnapped and threatened to kill my little girl.’

  ‘I don’t know, Miss, this is a very unusual occurrence, in fact it is almost unbelievable. I will have to consult with the captain, who prides himself on running a tight ship. Many don’t, but he is a man of principle and won’t like this situation on his watch.’ He paused. I could see him turning things over in his mind as I waited. ‘Until I have some answers, I will put you in the care of one of the crew and you may remain up on this deck for the time being. As a matter of interest, I understand from my guard that you were asking for medicines?’

  ‘Yes, I have some experience in nursing and midwifery.’ I said quickly. ‘There are many women who are very sick, as well as some in general ill-health. I hoped you might have some medicines to hand which would help.’ As I still had his attention, I enlarged
briefly on my experience. ‘I was a pupil midwife before I became embroiled in my aunt’s schemes. Is there not a medical man on board?’

  ‘Unfortunately, no. The agent decides on the facilities necessary and though there is talk of putting a physician regularly on all the transports, it has not yet come about. We are not a usual transport ship which is why there is but a small number of you. We are carrying more cargo than convicts, though some might say that convicts are cargo! I will leave you now, Miss Coad, and Jones, here, will escort you to a place where you will wait.’

  He turned to a sailor who had been loitering nearby and said, ‘Jones, keep this woman under lock. She can be given food and drink when the guards take theirs.’

  ‘Aye, Sir,’ said a small but wiry sailor.

  I was taken to a small cabin, which was clearly used for stowing goods. Seaman Jones moved some items out of the way and offered me a seat on a crate while he remained standing on guard, though he went to great lengths to assure me that he was a seaman and not a guard. Sometime later I was given a meal and biscuit but still no solution to my predicament. Jones turned out to be a chippy character and would talk to me out of the corner of his mouth. If someone were watching from the other side of his face, they would not realise he was speaking at all. He was very droll and before long we were chatting freely.

  ‘Some old bint has been dragged up afore His Prickship to answer questions as to how someone as old as her can be listed as a night-walker aged 23.’

  ‘Who is His Prickship?’ I asked in bewilderment.

  ‘Him as put you ’ere,’ Jones replied, with a grimace.

  ‘Has he got her true name out of her?’

  ‘Na, she’s keeping quiet about herself but swears you are her companion on the streets. He wants to know if the others will say she and you ’as been on the hulk with them.’

  ‘Well, she wasn’t, nor was I,’ I said bluntly.

  ‘Na, but they won’t grass. It’s their code.’

  My spirits slumped again.

  The food I was given was better than what we got below; while I ate, Jones locked me in the little cabin before going off to get his own rations. He returned later with a mug of ale and continued his blow-by-blow account of what was happening with His Prickship.

  ‘He’s ’eard from Carrot-Top that the old bint is not one of them of’t hulk.’

  ‘I thought you said they would all stick together?’

  ‘Seems they don’t get on. Carrot-Top don’t take kindly to someone muscling in on her patch.’

  I allowed myself to hope, just a little.

  Later, there were voices outside. The door was opened as a woman slid cautiously in, quietly shutting the door behind her. It was Sarah, but I barely recognised her as the prisoner from the Lewes lockup.

  ‘Esther, I knew it were you, lovey!’ she said, excitedly. ‘I told my fella all about you when I first got transported - and when I saw you up on deck, I knowed it were you.’

  I clasped her hand. ‘Sarah, I can’t thank you enough for helping me. My aunt kidnapped me and my little Beth. She threatened to kill her, and she murdered my husband at the church. Sarah, can you believe it? And then I was drugged and forced onto this ship.’ I gabbled my sorry tale to her and could see the bafflement in her face, but she believed me without question.

  ‘Bitch, and her pretending to be a tart! She must be all of 60.’ Sarah laughed. ‘I’m just sorry I can’t say as who she is but I did say what happened to yer afore and you lived in that stew of a place, Lewes, and you was not a street walker, and that you got friends in ’igh places, like,’

  ‘Oh, Sarah,’ I said, weeping again, ‘I am that grateful to you.’

  ‘I must be off now. If ’is Prickship catches me, I’ll be for it.’ She turned for the door. ‘I’ll look out for thee, Esther, don’t you worry none.’

  She disappeared, leaving me to contemplate in amazement all that had happened and to work out how I could help myself. Perhaps if I asked to see the captain, he would be merciful and not send me back down to the ’tween deck. As I waited, as patiently as possible, I wondered why Sarah and Jones called the officer ‘His Prickship.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Conditions aboard the convict ships, more particularly in the early years, were not such as were calculated to prevent or check disease. The prisons in the ’tween decks were gloomy, dank and insanitary, and frequently the prisoners, generally handcuffed and leg-ironed, were confined in them for long periods. As gross over-crowding was common, it is not surprising that the prisons were fertile breeding-places for diseases of all kinds.

  The Convict Ships by Charles Bateson

  I was to be quartered in a cabin on the upper deck, far away from the convicts! In return, I had agreed to help the ship’s company with their medical needs and try to improve the health of those convicts who are suffering from the effects of close confinement. I was also to be given access to the ship’s medical supplies under supervision. I was still regarded as a convict but His Prickship said again that the captain was a pragmatic man and that he wanted to make the best of a bad situation. My story was helped by two of the ship’s company who were found to have accepted a bribe; perhaps, Jones says, their admission was made with a view to being sent home. They were to be flogged and probably further punished once we made landfall. My aunt was now to be kept under close guard and she had lost the right to go up on to the exercise deck with the others. She had been threatened with irons if she caused any more trouble and her actions laid before the Governor. She had even more reason to hate me now.

  I was taken to a cabin where there was basic medical equipment and a locked chest containing supplies. I was to be shut in the room in the morning, given my meals there and the key to the chest which I must return at night. I would have to account for everything I used with detailed notes of who I treated, with what and the outcome.

  I had discovered from Jones that the boat was fully laden with cargo as well as the convicts, and with space so limited, I asked if it would be possible for me to string up a hammock in the cabin. I hoped so because there was a lock on the door. Though I had no freedom, I was so much better off, I could hardly believe my turn of luck. Sarah had visited me again and was going to try and find me something to wear over my convict garments. Seaman Jones seemed to have taken me under his wing and was my source of all knowledge. A great deal of turning a blind eye appeared to go on aboard the ship and I hoped I would be able to give a good account of myself whenever we got to land when I would have to beg the Governor to return to Britain. I was so indebted to Sarah and I thanked God for her presence on this ship and her stout defence of me.

  It was as I had hoped. I was permitted to sleep in the cabin and lock the door. How I rejoiced at the privacy.

  His Prickship was stern, but fair. He had stipulated that I could attend any of the ship’s company that he permitted but always in the company of another, either a senior sailor or officer; for this I was to be available at all times. As to the convicts, I would be allowed to treat them in my new room but if I needed to go down below, I was to do so with a guard, who would be armed. Any treatment that I deemed necessary would have to be talked through with him first and noted in writing. This was all to be for a trial period until the boat docked for fresh supplies and to unload some of the cargo in a place called Gibraltar.

  My spirits soared, and though I was separated from Beth and my friends, I already had much to be thankful for. I’d found four friends - my two convict colleagues, Lucy and Alice; Sarah and Seaman Jones and perhaps also an ally in Prickship whose real name I had discovered to be Mason. I’d heard that the ordinary sailors thought him too high and mighty and rigid in attitude which was how he got his name. Jones said to me, ‘He’s a prick, what else should we call him?’

  My greatest worry was that I would be unable to deal with the medical matters that occurred, another
concern that kept me awake at night.

  I had opened the chest and found detailed records of treatments needed on other voyages. Some or part of the entries were in Latin and covered areas of medicine beyond my knowledge. Oh God, I muttered to myself, as it came home to me in painful detail how limited was my learning. I didn’t even recognise the contents of the chest: all the creams, ointments and bottles of different coloured liquids that might be poison, for all I knew - there was certainly quite a number of blue bottles. The previous surgeon, his name was Brooks, had been capable of amputating, setting bones and dealing with diseases way beyond my skills and, furthermore, I had always had my herbs to fall back on. There were no herbs here. I was sickened and terrified that these people would expect more of me than I could give. I sat back on my heels and burst into tears. I felt that I just couldn’t do this.

  Later that day, Sarah visited me again and I told her why I had been crying after she commented on the streaky face I was presenting to the world.

  ‘I am a fraud, Sarah.’ I wept. ‘I have no knowledge of most of the conditions that Surgeon Brooks refers to. I don’t even recognise the terms he uses. I can’t pretend that I do - I will be discovered immediately and then sent back to the ’tween deck.’ I started to cry again at the thought of that and the retribution of Aunt Tilly and what she might do to me.

  Sarah joined me on the floor and started pulling everything out of the chest, saying, ‘Let’s just have a gander before we give up, Esther. You are better than nothing in their eyes, and if you just use your noddle, you can get by and give a good account of yerself. There is no-one else on this ship that can do better than you so they, and you, have naught to lose and you are not costing them a penny piece. Use your common sense, lovey.’

  ‘But I have, Sarah,’ I went on. ‘I jumped at this chance, yet, if I don’t succeed, at least in part, I will be returned to the convict deck.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ she scoffed. ‘I heard that they believe your story, especially as those two sailors admitted to swapping you for them hussies. They are gonna be flogged tomorrow and handed over to the soldiers in Gibraltar when we get there, so there is no likelihood of you being treated as a convict - on this ship, at least.’