by Valerie Wood
He took off his coat and put it over the back of his chair, then jumped at the knock on the door and sat down at his desk with his back to the door. ‘Come in,’ he said huskily and, after tapping down some papers, he slowly turned around.
He stared with his mouth apart. ‘Who are you?’
Meg licked her lips. ‘Emily Hawkins, sir.’
He put his hand to his brow. There must be someone else with the same name! But I would have noticed on the list. He took a deep breath and stood up. ‘I think not.’
‘Well, no sir.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘I’m not.’
He had seen the woman before. He recognized her as the woman walking with Emily on the deck, but he hadn’t seen her properly. Now that he did, he knew what she was and what she had probably always been. Why had she befriended Emily? He saw the boldness in her face, but something else also. An appeal! But why?
‘Fact is, sir, Emily Hawkins is not available, but I am. Emily shouldn’t be here, it was an injustice and she’s an innocent, both of her crime and in her womanhood.’ She kept her eyes fixed on him. ‘I’m appealing to your better nature, sir. Leave Emily alone, she can’t give you what you want. But I can.’ She glanced around the cabin. The hammock swung as the ship dipped and rolled. ‘You can shut your eyes, sir. You don’t have to look at me.’
‘You’d do that for her?’ he asked softly.
‘Aye, and more. She’s a good lass and deserves better than life’s handing out to her.’
He smiled. He had never realized how wrong he could be in assessing someone’s character. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Meg, sir. You don’t need to know more ’n that.’
‘Well, Meg,’ he sat down on the chair, ‘you’re obviously a good friend of Emily’s so I can tell you that it wasn’t my design to force my attentions on her. I was –’. He hesitated. ‘I am – merely bringing her news of someone she was acquainted with. Someone from the town of Hull.’
‘From Hull, sir!’ Meg’s face lit up. ‘Do you know that town?’
He nodded. ‘I do. I was at school there.’
‘Don’t tell me!’ She waved a finger at him. ‘Trinity House, I’ll be bound.’
He agreed and she rushed on. ‘I never thought – never ever thought I’d meet up with anybody again who knew my home town.’
‘Meg! I’d be obliged if you wouldn’t tell Emily about me. I want to tell her myself. I’m not sure how she will take it, seeing me here.’
‘You mean that you know her?’ Meg frowned suspiciously. ‘How?’
‘I’d rather not say. If Emily wants to tell you, then she can.’ He stood up again. ‘Now, will you ask the sentry to bring up the real Emily Hawkins?’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Why am I wanted, do you think?’ Emily was nervous. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘No,’ Meg assured her as she woke her and whispered that she was wanted above by the surgeon’s mate. ‘He’s probably just checking everybody’s health.’
‘Now? When we’ve been battened down for the night?’
‘Just go!’ Meg insisted. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise.’
Emily followed the guard, who on reaching the door of the cabin, winked at her. ‘He must have quite an appetite, young surgeon, though his second course looks more palatable than his first.’
She stared at him. What was he talking about? He didn’t mean –! She was suddenly very afraid. What was it the woman in York gaol had said about the officers wanting me? That she would pick someone out for me so that they could both eat! She felt sick and faint and she stumbled. Her legs were shaky as if they were fettered even though the irons had been taken off. The sentry glanced curiously at her and then knocked on the cabin door. A voice called to come in and he pushed her inside.
She kept her head lowered and didn’t look up until her name was spoken. ‘Emily.’
It was said so softly that it was as if she imagined it. She lifted her head and took a short, sharp breath. ‘Mr Linton!’ The cabin though well lit by a lamp seemed to grow dim, there were stars swirling dizzily around her and she felt herself sway.
‘Come and sit down.’ He took her arm and propelled her gently to the chair by the desk. ‘Would you like some water?’ he asked quietly. ‘Or a little brandy?’
‘Water,’ she gasped, ‘please.’
He busied himself pouring the water from a jug into a glass whilst she tried to make sense of the situation. Why was Philip Linton on board this ship? But of course, he could go anywhere, he was a naval officer. But how strange, of all the ships in England, he should be on this one. A terrible shame washed over her. He must know all about me, it will be written down somewhere.
She sipped the water and he perched on the corner of his desk. ‘I won’t say how glad I am to see you, Emily,’ he gave a small smile, ‘but nevertheless, I am. But I’m also so sorry to see you in this predicament.’
She nodded, too overcome to say anything.
‘I had heard of your trial,’ he explained. ‘I saw your friend, Ginny, when I was in Hull and she told me of it.’
‘I suppose everyone was gossiping about it?’ she said bitterly. ‘My name would be on everyone’s tongue.’
‘Not everyone thinks ill of you, Emily.’ His voice was soft. ‘Your friends don’t.’
‘Friends?’ Her voice was cynical. ‘What friends have I? My friends are here on board ship and no-one would think well of them!’
‘Try not to be bitter, Emily,’ he pleaded. ‘We are doing what we can to help you.’
Her eyes opened wide. ‘We? Who are we?’
‘Roger Francis. Your relative, Mary Edwards.’
She gasped. ‘You’ve met them? When? Where?’
‘In York,’ he said briefly. ‘They are still petitioning for your reprieve.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s too late for that. Don’t they realize that I’m on a convict ship and I won’t be coming back?’
He leaned forward and took hold of her hand. ‘Don’t say that, Emily. Don’t give up hope.’
She looked down at his hand on hers, but made no attempt to move it. ‘The other women on board say that we are sent out to Botany Bay, not for our crimes, but to please the men who are there.’ She lifted her eyes to his and said candidly, ‘If I find that is true when we get there, then I shall take my own life.’
He was appalled. How crushed and wretched she must be to consider such an act! And yet it came to him with such passionate certainty that she was still so pure in mind that the terror of death was preferable to the disgrace of becoming defiled.
‘Emily, I have an idea to make you more comfortable whilst you are on the ship.’
She looked at him suspiciously and withdrew her hand from his. Was he, after all, like other men and not the hero she had dreamed him to be? She had seen other women going off with seamen and officers, was he going to offer her some inducement to do the same?
He flushed slightly. ‘Some of the officers on board take the women as – er – friends, and look after them. It is not strictly allowed, but it happens. I – I do not agree with it, personally, but I am saying to you that in order for you to be more comfortable –’.
‘What are you trying to say, Mr Linton?’ Her voice was icy. So he was like other men. She felt a cold chill around her heart. She was so disappointed. He had seemed so honourable.
‘I – I’m not suggesting anything improper, Emily,’ he pleaded. ‘But – but we would have to pretend that you were coming here for something more than a friendly chat.’
She softened slightly, but still harboured doubts. ‘What then?’
‘You could come, perhaps a few times a week.’ He glanced around the small cabin. ‘You could sleep in the hammock and rest easier than down below. I won’t trouble you, you have my word. But I would have to put the word about so that the others will keep away.’
‘The others? What others?’
‘Well, one other who has watched you. He in
tends to invite you to his cabin.’ His mouth tightened. ‘He is a reprobate, like another we both know.’
Her face paled. ‘Like Hugo Purnell? You know what happened?’
‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I do. Ginny told me.’ But it makes not a scrap of difference, he thought as he watched her. You are still so innocent, and so lovely in spite of your tangled hair and your prison clothes.
‘Then you know that I have been ill-used by one man, Mr Linton,’ she said bluntly. ‘My life is in ruins because of him. How can I trust another?’
Because I love you, he wanted to say. Because I am travelling to the other side of the world to be with you, to protect you and if possible to bring you back. But he simply said, ‘It will be difficult for you, I realize, but you have my word. That is all I can offer.’
She got up from the chair. ‘I have no reason not to trust you, Mr Linton. You have always behaved very properly towards me. Forgive me if I have behaved rudely towards you, but I have been under a great deal of strain.’ She paused. ‘I’ll come. Will you send for me?’
‘Come tomorrow evening. I’ll tell the duty guard. And Emily,’ he hesitated slightly, then reaching towards the chair, put his hand into his coat pocket, ‘this will seem distasteful to you, but I must give you something for coming.’
He handed her a coin and she looked down at it in her hand. ‘Use it to buy extra food, then the other women will think they know why you come.’
He escorted her out of the cabin and through the dining hall, where some officers were sitting at a long polished table. There were pewter tankards and china dinner plates in front of them, for they were at their supper, but they turned to watch Emily as she passed. They went down the companionway to the lower decks and passed other women returning from rendezvous. She shivered. I will now have a reputation for being immoral. But does it matter when I know differently? He is a good man, I’m sure of it, but the other women won’t believe that. Will Meg? Should I tell her?
Meg was awake and waiting for her. ‘Well,’ she asked. ‘What did he want? Summat, I’ll bet!’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Meg! It’s the most extraordinary thing.’ She told her in whispers that she had met Mr Linton before and that he had met her only relative who was still trying for a reprieve. ‘I told him that it was impossible, but he said I mustn’t give up hope. But of course I have. Is it possible, do you think, that anything can change?’
Meg shook her head. ‘I doubt it. Not for ’better anyway. But he seems a decent enough young fella –.’
‘How do you know that?’ Emily said, surprised. ‘Have you met him?’
‘Er – no! But I’ve seen him, haven’t I? That day up on ’deck and I can generally tell. There’s not much I don’t know about men just by looking at ’em.’ She bent her head towards Emily and gazing intently at her, whispered, ‘So what did he really want? And did he pay for it?’
Emily opened her palm and showed the coin. ‘We can buy extra food tomorrow, Meg.’
Meg sighed and shook her head. ‘As I thought,’ she murmured. ‘As I thought!’
The time Emily spent in the cabin became her oasis, a refuge from the stench of the convict accommodation and the foul air which they all breathed. As they passed the islands of the Canaries, the weather became hotter and the lower decks became unbearable. She swung sleepily and contentedly in the hammock and watched from half-closed eyes as Philip Linton worked at his desk, sometimes with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his shirt neck open. Occasionally other officers or seamen would knock on his door and glance at her through the doorway as they spoke to him.
She slept nearly all night on one visit and opened her eyes to find him standing looking down at her. ‘Wake up, Emily,’ he said softly, ‘it’s time for you to go,’ and he walked her back as dawn was breaking and the stars were disappearing into the heavens.
The other women in her bunk were envious and they discussed the handsome young lieutenant as they shared the extra food which her money bought. Only Meg was grumpy and short-tempered with her, but Emily put this down to the intense oppressive heat which was building up. Storms were brewing too and when they hit the prisoners were confined below, the air scuttles were closed and the hatches firmly fastened. The atmosphere was putrid and many of the women fainted from lack of air. The male convicts rebelled at being kept down and some were manacled to their bunks to avoid trouble.
‘Sir,’ Philip looked up from bandaging a seaman’s hand as Mr Clavell came into the sick room, ‘could the women stay on deck at night? It’s a hell hole down below. The bilges are stinking and we’re going to have a crop of illness if we’re not careful.’
Clavell nodded. ‘I was thinking the same thing, Mr Linton. I’ll go and speak to the captain now.’ He was quite sober, though he had had a drink and Philip hoped that he hadn’t guessed that he had watered down his rum.
He came back ten minutes later. ‘The captain’s sick. I’ve ordered him to his bunk, and yes, he says the women can stay on deck until midnight. The men are not going to like it, it’s just as bad for them, but captain says we can’t have both out together, not at night.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Can’t say I blame him for that, the men are getting restless.’
‘There’ll be more air circulating below once the women are on top.’ Philip was sweating, beads of moisture were gathered on his top lip. Poor devils down below, he thought, though it would be easier for them now that their anklets had been removed. ‘And perhaps their water ration can be increased?’
So the women were allowed to stay on deck and they lay on the planking and still sweated as the ship coursed on towards the equator and the male convicts grumbled and complained when they were brought back down at midnight.
Captain Martin became feverish and couldn’t stand and Lieutenant Boyle took over command. This caused Philip some annoyance as the officer had been particularly disagreeable towards him on discovering that Emily was visiting his cabin. ‘Found out if she’s clean, Linton?’ he’d sneered. ‘That’s what you were worried about, isn’t it? Bothered about whether she’s had the clap!’
Now that the captain was out of commission, Boyle, though he was a good seaman, took great pleasure in issuing fresh orders contrary to those of Captain Martin. ‘Get the women down below,’ he barked one evening. ‘We’ll have no mollycoddling whilst I’m in charge.’
The women shouted and screamed as they were pushed below and the men too objected on their behalf. ‘Let them up, sir, they’ll do no harm,’ a voice called from the men’s side.
‘Who’s that?’ Boyle pushed his way through the sentries and confronted the convicts through the barricade. ‘Who is it who’s objecting?’
There was a sudden silence, then a voice said, ‘I am.’ A man pushed his way forward. ‘It’s like hell down here. Let ’women come up.’
‘Aye, let them up.’ A chorus of male voices shouted in support.
‘Iron that man and fasten him to his bunk. I’ll have no insubordination.’ Boyle started to climb the companion ladder, but a great shout of anger stopped him. ‘Any trouble’, he hissed, ‘and I’ll confine you all below for the next week.’
The shouting stopped but an agitated murmuring continued until the door was clanged shut and they were left to sweat. Meg picked her way through the mass of women who had stretched out on the planking rather than be confined to their bunks, which they had to share with other sweating bodies.
‘Sorry, lads.’ She peered through the barricade. ‘It was a good try. Who’s ’chap who’s been ironed?’
‘John Johnson,’ the voice shouted. ‘Who are you?’
‘Meg,’ she called back. ‘Thanks anyway.’
Two seamen had also got the fever and after Philip had attended them he went up on deck and was surprised to find that the women were not there. He went below decks and came to the door of their accommodation, where he found three armed guards instead of one and the same at the male convicts’ door. One of the guards barre
d his way. ‘None of the women are allowed up tonight, sir.’ Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and his lips were dry and cracked.
‘On whose orders?’
‘Lieutenant Boyle’s, sir. They’re to stay below until the morning. That’s all of ’em, sir,’ he added meaningfully. He was the guard who had first escorted Emily to Philip’s cabin. ‘It’s hard luck on ’em, sir. There’s a pregnant woman down there, and a couple of old ’uns who might not last the night.’
Philip turned away, seething with anger. Who did Boyle think he was, playing God with people’s lives? These people might be criminals, but they were entitled to some compassion. He made his way back to the sick berth, intent on searching out the surgeon. Clavell alone could oppose Boyle in this matter. But he wasn’t in the sick berth or in his cabin, nor was he in the captain’s cabin when he looked in. He eventually found him on deck curled up at the feet of the helmsman, snoring loudly with a bottle tucked under his arm.
‘You’ll not rouse him tonight, Mr Linton.’ The helmsman kept his eyes straight ahead. ‘He’s gunnels under. Best put him to bed.’
Philip called a midshipman to help him and together they hauled Clavell into his bunk. He opened one eye as Philip tried to take the bottle from him and clung to it with both hands. ‘It’s empty, sir,’ Philip said. ‘Not a drop left.’
‘Hah! Plenty more where that came from,’ Clavell slurred, and peered at Philip. ‘And don’t think you’ll find them, ’cos you won’t.’ His mouth dropped open and he snored with abandon.
‘It’s my decision, Linton,’ Boyle said lazily when Philip questioned him about the women being kept below. ‘You haven’t the authority and Clavell is as drunk as a lord, so there’s nothing he can do either. They can all come up in the morning. We’ll be crossing the Line at noon and we’ll have a bit of fun with them then, eh?’ He gave a cynical grin. ‘Sorry if I’ve spoiled your love games, Linton, but I’m sure she’ll be all the more eager after being deprived of your company for a night or two.’
