A Ring Through Time

by Pulman, Felicity

  ‘Are you not well?’ I ask, remembering her absence from the dance.

  Elizabeth shrugs.

  It is her sister, Aggie, who answers. ‘She has a bad cough and complains of palpitations. Mama is worried about her. We all are.’

  Elizabeth’s eyes flash a warning. ‘My health is not an interesting subject.’ She turns to me. ‘I saw you talking to that convict just now. Why?’

  I repeat the lie I told Susannah, wondering at the nature of a community where even speaking to a convict excites suspicion.

  Elizabeth surveys me thoughtfully. ‘Poor wretches,’ she says. ‘Your father is a hard taskmaster.’

  ‘I know that now,’ I reply, embarrassed. I feel in some way responsible for my father’s behaviour, and wish that I could feel more proud of him.

  ‘Father is just doing his job,’ Susannah says tartly.

  Elizabeth nods. She begins to cough and turns her head aside, fumbling for her handkerchief. I watch in alarm as she bends over and gasps for breath. My fear deepens when I notice a splash of red on the hastily folded handkerchief that she thrusts into her pocket after the spasm is over. I open my mouth to say something, but Elizabeth’s frown warns me to keep silent. Instead, I launch into an apology.

  ‘I am sorry if I offended you the last time we spoke.’

  I don’t want to go into detail in front of Susannah. Elizabeth seems to understand.

  ‘I think we must accept that we have differing views on certain subjects,’ she says.

  ‘I have heard and seen enough now to know that we are closer in opinion than you might think,’ I say. ‘But there is the question of loyalty, you see.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Susannah asks.

  ‘My parents are thinking of giving a party at Longridge to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary,’ Elizabeth says.

  It is a successful diversion. Susannah claps her hands together, not noticing that her question has not been answered.

  ‘A party! Shall we be invited?’

  ‘Of course,’ Elizabeth says. ‘That is if your father accepts our invitation.’

  ‘Why should he not?’

  Elizabeth shakes her head, looking unhappy.

  ‘Of course he will,’ Susannah cries. ‘He knows how we value any opportunity for entertainment on the island.’

  ‘It will be great fun,’ Aggie chimes in enthusiastically. ‘Mother has invited Captains Hamilton and Cockcroft and Lieutenants Edwards and Simmons. Mr Rowlands will also be there, and several other gentlemen too. Including Jack Cartwright, Alice.’

  I put a hand to my mouth to hide my smile. It seems that Mrs Robertson and our mother share at least one thing in common: the desire to marry off their daughters.

  ‘I am certain it will be a great bore,’ says Elizabeth.

  ‘Nonsense,’ says Aggie. ‘Mr Rowlands seems quite smitten with Meg, as does Mr Padbury with Ann. You could have a beau too, sister, if you would only care to make yourself agreeable.’

  ‘I am not in the least interested in Mr Padbury!’

  Ann’s indignant retort goes unnoticed as Elizabeth rounds on Aggie.

  ‘Mr Rowlands is a jackass. And so are all the others.’

  ‘Elizabeth!’

  ‘I amuse myself well enough,’ Elizabeth says, adding with a twinkle, ‘And I usually do so at the gentlemen’s expense.’

  ‘Elizabeth! How could you?’

  Elizabeth frowns at Aggie. ‘You are most welcome to make yourself agreeable, as you call it, to any of the gentlemen who keep bothering us with their attentions. As for me, I have no plans to be married any time soon. I am enjoying my life far too much to subjugate myself to a husband’s whims and fancies.’

  Aggie rolls her eyes and turns away. I look at Elizabeth, wondering how she can joke about love, about the future, when she seems so very ill. But perhaps she already knows her future and has come to terms with it. Perhaps her jokes are a way of warding off sympathy and also a way to avoid making any long-term plans. I feel an intense pity for my new friend, and great concern for her welfare.

  Despite my care for Elizabeth, my gaze keeps straying towards the ship and the convicts unloading the cargo. When she speaks again, I realise that she is also watching them.

  ‘Villains they may be, but you have to feel sorry for their hard life. Reverend Rogers was speaking to Papa just two nights ago about his concerns over the change in management of the convicts since your father took over. So you see, Papa is not the only one to have doubts. His treatment of the convicts at Longridge has proved highly successful, yet your father has ordered that the convicts’ gardens are to be destroyed and that closer watch must be kept on the shepherds and stockmen for, in his view, they have far too much freedom. He has threatened Papa with dismissal if his orders are not carried out. We are all very worried about it.’

  Elizabeth hesitates for a long moment. I glance at Susannah; she is chattering to Aggie. No-one is listening to us.

  ‘Perhaps you could speak to your father, Alice?’ I see the cost of this request to Elizabeth’s pride. ‘Could you ask him what his plans are for Longridge, and put in a good word for us? He might listen to a favourite daughter.’

  ‘Not so favourite these days. Not after what happened at the dance.’

  Elizabeth laughs. ‘I heard about that. It was a brave thing to do, Alice, but foolish, I think.’

  I smile. I am not going to contradict her. Besides, I suspect I detect admiration in her tone.

  ‘Nevertheless, could you ask about Longridge without saying why you want to know?’ she continues.

  I hear the anxiety in her voice, and understand now what prompted the earlier misunderstanding between us.

  ‘I shall do my best,’ I promise.

  I have every intention of keeping my promise to Elizabeth, but my courage fails me when, on our return from our outing, I hear the sound of raised voices coming from Father’s study.

  ‘You have no right to interfere with my command here!’ Father shouts. I wonder who he is talking to as he continues. ‘How dare you write a letter of complaint to Archdeacon Marriott about my treatment of the prisoners. How dare you go behind my back like that!’

  I hear the low rumble of a reply, and creep closer to the study door.

  ‘Never you mind how I found out. There is not a lot that happens on this island without my knowledge. You will do well to bear that in mind. And you may be quite sure that I shall refute all your allegations. More, I intend to recommend your dismissal. I cannot have you undermining me in this manner.’

  There is another low mutter that I cannot hear, even with my ear to the door. Father’s responding roar gives me such a fright that I jump back and almost fall over.

  ‘Don’t you talk to me about that fool Maconochie! It is because of him and his idiotic ideas that things became as bad as they did here. That is why I must take a firm hand with the convicts. I tell you, Rogers, I have had enough of your interference. You are as bad as my predecessor and that numbskull Robertson, and I want you off this island. I shall write to Sir William Denison and urge him to order your instant dismissal. Now get out of my sight.’

  There is the rough scrape of a chair across the floorboards. I spring away from the door and scuttle down the passage into my small bedroom. After the footsteps have passed my door, I peep into the hallway. The retreating figure is Reverend Rogers. I have heard Father grumble about the cleric in the past, but it sounds as if, this time, Rogers has gone too far.

  ‘Is everything all right, dear?’ Mother swishes into the study, presumably with the idea of trying to calm things down.

  I reflect on how greatly my father has changed since coming here. I never heard him lose his temper in Van Diemen’s Land, nor did I suspect how cruel he could be to the men in his care. I feel as if I no longer know my father at all. I wonder if my mother shares my feelings.

  I creep back towards the study, hoping to find out if my father plans to carry out his threat against Rogers,
and also against others who oppose him, such as Elizabeth’s father.

  ‘Damn that man and his impertinence,’ Father rages. ‘I tell you, Mary, he has to go. I will not have him questioning everything I do and sending letters of complaint to the archdeacon about me. All damned lies, of course. He has no idea how to treat these criminals. The man has not got a brain in his head. He even had the hide to tell me I should show more lenience to those savages in the Ring.’ He gives an angry guffaw. ‘If I extended the hand of friendship to those hyenas, they would bite it off. Probably take my whole arm with it.’

  ‘There, there, dear.’ My mother has left the study door open and I can hear her quite clearly. ‘They cannot all be hardened criminals, surely? Did you not tell me there are some political prisoners here, from Ireland?’

  My heart begins to thump.

  Father gives an angry snort. ‘They are just as capable of fomenting trouble as any of the old hands. Especially that musician, the one they call Paddy. He is always complaining. One would think he had expected to find a holiday camp here rather than a convict barracks.’

  ‘Is he the convict who played the violin at the soiree and the dance?’

  ‘No, that was his brother, Cormac. He seems quiet enough. Keeps himself out of trouble anyway. But Alice had no business trying to make music with them. There are sniggers about it all over the island. She has shamed us all.’

  ‘I don’t think she intended it that way, dear. I expect she merely saw an opportunity to play her violin, just as she used to in Van Diemen’s Land.’

  ‘That wasn’t the same thing at all. She was playing with free men there, not convicts.’

  ‘But this convict is certainly an accomplished musician.’ Mother pauses and I hold my breath. ‘I wonder — but only with your agreement, of course, my dear — if we might ask him to tutor Alice?’

  I dare not let myself hope. I clench my hands so tightly my nails dig into my palms.

  ‘I hardly think —’

  ‘Perhaps you have not noticed how unhappy Alice is here,’ Mother interrupts. ‘She misses the music and gaiety of Hobart Town. I worry about her low spirits, and believe that being able to play music again would cheer her enormously. Not in public, of course. Just in private, here with us. Would you permit it, John? I know it would make such a difference to her if it could be arranged.’

  My hands squeeze tighter as I wait for Father’s answer.

  ‘It is not at all seemly for a convict to come into our home in order to give lessons to our daughter, Mary. I know Maconochie brought musical instruments out here, and encouraged the convicts to learn to play them, but I do not approve of the men playing music for pleasure — unless it is for our entertainment, of course. No doubt Maconochie would have allowed convicts to tutor his children — as Gilbert Robertson does even now for his family — but their ways are not mine, as you know.’

  Father’s words feel like a blow. I crumple over, clutching my arms tight around myself for comfort. Gradually, I become aware that my mother is speaking again.

  ‘… and, of course, we have a trusted convict to look after William. No-one says anything about that. And no-one need know if Alice is being tutored in the violin. Perhaps you might consider it further, my dear? We do not want our daughter wasting away like the Robertson girl, do we?’

  My mother’s footsteps nearing the door send me scurrying back to my bedroom. Once inside, I shut the door and lean against it. My whole body is shaking with emotion. It is kind of my mother to raise the possibility of what I most wish for, even though she did not succeed. Perhaps if I were to confide my unhappiness to my father, along with my regret for making a public spectacle of myself, it might encourage him to think more favourably of my mother’s suggestion. I decide that it is worth a try, and resolve to speak to him just as soon as an opportunity arises.

  Thursday

  My chance comes after breakfast today.

  ‘Father, I want to apologise once again for my behaviour at the dance,’ I begin. ‘I so badly wanted to play the violin that I gave no thought to your position here on the island, and how my actions might be viewed by others.’

  Father’s only response is ‘Hmmph’. But he gives me a half-smile before raising his cup of coffee for a sip.

  ‘I feel sure that two of the convicts we saw unloading the cargo yesterday were the same men whose music entertained us at the soiree and at the dance,’ I continue innocently. ‘Were their crimes so very bad that they had to wear shackles? Surely the men could work far more efficiently if they were able to move freely under the loads they carry?’

  Father’s smile changes to a frown. I quake inwardly under his hard stare.

  ‘Do not meddle in affairs you do not understand, Alice,’ he says, and slams his cup down into the saucer. He stands up, brushing crumbs from his waistcoat.

  I know I am foolish to continue but I am desperate to do whatever I can to ease Cormac’s plight. ‘Are they all just as bad as the old hands then? Do you have to treat them so harshly? When we visited Longridge with Mother, the convicts there seemed so much happier. And, although they move about freely, all seems very peaceful. No-one walks around armed all the time, as you do. Mr Robertson seems to have a very good relationship with the convicts under his charge, and I know they work well for him. Elizabeth was telling me how the crops have flourished and the yield has increased since her father took over the management of Longridge.’

  Father glares at me a moment longer. Then he grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet. ‘Come with me,’ he grits through clenched teeth.

  He marches me down the hallway and out of the house. The sentry salutes as we pass, but Father does not acknowledge him. ‘Your mother tells me you have been asking questions about the prisoners,’ he says, as we stride past the houses along Military Road and on towards Cemetery Bay.

  A quick glance at the garden and fields tells me that the convicts are back and hard at work, but I dare not look too closely to see if Cormac is among them.

  ‘It is not your place to question me, but I shall show you anyway, if only to put these silly notions of yours to rest,’ Father continues. We pass the line of trees that mark the boundary of the cemetery and approach the bay.

  ‘There!’ He points towards a gang of prisoners on the rocky platform that stretches out into the bay.

  They are bare-footed and painfully thin, and need to brace themselves against the waves that continually break and recede around their legs. Their heavy hammers sound a ragged chorus as they crash down, cracking the rocks into smaller pieces. I sense the agony behind each painful hammer blow, and wince in sympathy. The overseer cracks his whip, lashing the shoulders of the man closest to him. I notice with horror that the prisoners are hobbled in leg irons, a heavy chain looping from one to the other, keeping them tied together like animals. I imagine how the chains must be chafing their skin, the pain made worse by the wash of salt water. I swallow hard, wanting to close my eyes against the sight.

  ‘All convicts are blackguards, all pose a threat to our community, but these are the worst of the worst,’ Father says. ‘They are members of what is known as the Ring; dangerous criminals all — bushrangers, murderers, cattle thieves, robbers and pirates. All have just one aim: to escape from the island by any means available. These men have been here for years and they fear no-one. No risk is too great, and no life is sacred if anyone gets in their way. The other convicts live in fear of them for they have been responsible for all manner of low and despicable acts, from theft and murder to —’ He breaks off hurriedly. ‘To other acts not fit to be discussed in front of women. I am determined to break their spirits, Alice, and bring them to repentance and to God.’

  ‘Or to their deaths.’ I know I risk unleashing my father’s anger, but I cannot bear the sight in front of me.

  ‘Or to their deaths,’ Father agrees. ‘They will die here sooner or later, and it might be that they would prefer a quick death to this daily degradation. Of course, they may also
choose to reform, if they so wish.’

  ‘And if they do, how will you know?’

  Father smiles grimly. ‘I suspect there is little chance of that after all this time. But I have spies among the men. They tell me what is going on, knowing they will be rewarded for their information.’

  I close my eyes. I can just imagine it: the tattle-telling in the hope of a reward, and the temptation to tell lies. Oh, Cormac, I mourn silently. You have no place here, but there is so little I can do to help you.

  ‘Open your eyes, Alice,’ Father commands. ‘I want you to think about what you are witnessing. On this small island, we are far away from the mainland and any help should the convicts rise against us — as they have done once already. Those wretches are still to be put on trial and punished. They will be kept in close confinement until the judge arrives to hear their case, which will be any day now. But that uprising has caused great unrest among the other inmates, and I mean to make sure that they have no further opportunity to run amok. This is why I keep the rest of the old hands hard at work and under guard. You must remember, Alice, that our struggle to stay alive is waged on a daily basis,’ he continues. ‘It is a hard struggle; harder for some than for others, I grant you, but all of it necessary.’

  He points towards the men on the rocky outcrop. ‘This is the only way to get the materials we need to finish building the pier, to make it safer for the ships to stand at anchor. Someone has to do the hard labour, and who better than these villains, who, after all, are reaping no more than they deserve. Do not waste your pity and tender heart on them. It is time you concentrated on finding a husband, so you may have a home of your own to keep you busy.’

  I swallow past the lump in my throat, and blink back tears. I concentrate on a tiny robin red-breast that is bouncing along looking for seeds and insects among the grass. How merry it is; how I envy its lack of care.

  ‘I would rather return to Van Diemen’s Land where I might occupy myself with music lessons and playing the violin once more,’ I venture, hoping to make him understand the depth of my need so he will give me what I most want.