The Far Horizon

by Gretta Curran Browne

  ‘Keep that girl quiet!’ the captain called irritably, then turned his attention back to John Campbell who had come on board to find some male convict servants to work in the stables at Government House.

  ‘We have some strong young men in this batch,’ and some with the appearance of good breeding too,’ said the captain, leading the way to where the male convicts had been grouped. ‘Good breeding turned bad I daresay.’

  But John Campbell was not following the captain, he was still standing looking towards the girl with the golden hair. Tears were running down her face now and he could see she was very young, no more than seventeen.

  It was unusual to see a female convict so emotionally affected by her circumstances … after the long voyage most were so beaten and weak in mind and body that the only reaction they could manage on finally reaching land was either tired indifference, or an expression of brazen sullenness.

  But this girl looked humiliated … utterly humiliated by being made to stand in a line-up.

  Boats had been rowing out to the ship as soon as it had anchored, many carrying Exclusives looking for new servants, and once on board they could take their pick.

  A middle-aged woman in a black dress and bonnet stepped aboard, looking to all the world like a widow in her weeds or some prim rector’s wife, but John Campbell recognised her for who she was – Mrs Hester, the proprietress of a brothel in Sydney who had been warned many times but still came aboard every ship that docked, looking to procure young girls as ‘servants’ – but not today, John Campbell was determined the evil witch would procure no young girls today.

  Unsurprisingly, she had headed straight for the girl with the golden hair and had already asked her a question when John Campbell strode over to them.

  ‘I’m eighteen,’ the girl was replying.

  ‘And not for your establishment, Mrs Hester,’ said John Campbell sharply, cutting in. ‘Now how many times have you been warned – no bloody soliciting of young girls sent into Governor Macquarie’s care!’

  ‘I was merely looking for a new housemaid,’ Mrs Hester declared indignantly, ‘ and she is over sixteen, Mr Campbell, she has just told me so.’

  ‘And now I’m telling you to bugger off back to your stinking brothel! And the next time I catch you on one of these ships I’ll report you to Governor Macquarie and next time he will have you prosecuted – unless of course it’s the ship that’ll be taking you home to the back alleys in Billingsgate.’

  Mrs Hester fired a dark look of venomous hatred at John Campbell, before turning away towards the roped chair that would lower her back into her boat.

  ‘You and Governor Macquarie can go and sod yourselves!’ she shouted viciously, seconds before the chair was lowered.

  The girl was looking utterly bewildered when John Campbell turned back to her. ‘Surely she was not …’

  ‘Never mind her. Now, your voice, miss … you sound as if you have had some education,’ Campbell said. ‘Mrs Macquarie would appreciate that, and a new maid is needed at Government House.’

  ‘You mean …’ the girl’s blue eyes opened wide in disbelief, ‘I would be a maid to the Governor’s wife?’

  ‘Well no, you would have to do your apprenticeship with Mrs Kelly or Mrs Ovens first … until we find out what type of girl you are. Now then, stay here and don’t move, I need to find some suitable stable boys before we go ashore.’

  Later that day, John Campbell gave the girl’s papers to Elizabeth. ‘I think she could make a decent housemaid,’ he said.

  ‘And what makes you think so?’ Elizabeth queried, although she knew John Campbell was always very shrewd in his selection of any convicts who worked in the Governor’s household.

  Campbell hesitated. He had personally selected the girl because her voice and golden hair had attracted him, in a fatherly way, and because she appeared the type who might prefer to drown herself overboard than be seduced into prostitution by a guard or a seaman on the voyage out from England – as well as appearing suitably intelligent enough to serve as a maid in Mrs Macquarie's personal employment.

  ‘She has some dignity in her manner,’ he replied, ‘and she seems bright enough.’

  Elizabeth was frowning as she read the girl’s papers. ‘And where is she now?’

  ‘Getting bathed, m’lady. You know Mrs Kelly won’t allow any convict from a ship into her kitchen until they have had a bath first.’

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘Well, as soon as she is clean, tell Mrs Kelly to send the girl up to me.’

  And that was how the beautiful young English girl, Mary Neely, walked into Government House and the life of George Jarvis.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘I strangled her – my mistress,’ Mary said to her awe-struck audience in the kitchen. ‘I put my hands around her throat and squeezed the life out of her. She's dead now, ten feet under, and it surely is the kindest place for her to be. She had a friend, another nasty piece like herself, with red hair and sly eyes whom she called “Louise”, and I would have liked to strangle her too, but I never got the chance. Still, my day with her friend Louise may yet come! When I go back!’

  Mrs Kelly was looking mighty uneasy. ‘Look here, Mary Neely, I don't know if I like having a murderess in my kitchen!’

  ‘Well you hate thieves!’ Mary challenged. ‘So pray tell us, Mrs Kelly dear, what crime of a convict is acceptable in your kitchen?’

  The maids were all staring at Mary with a look akin to reverence. In the space of three weeks she had won the affection of Mrs Macquarie and had got herself elevated to service in the mistress’s private apartments, and now she was daring to challenge Mrs Kelly in her own kitchen!

  ‘Innocence!’ Mrs Kelly declared. ‘That's what I like in my kitchen. Innocence! Or politics. There's nothing wrong with politics. But all these other girls here in my kitchen are innocent. That they are! All innocent as babes.’

  Mary laughed, musically. ‘All convicts in New South Wales are innocent, according to you! Well here is one that is most definitely not innocent. I am guilty of murder. As true as my hand I am!' She held up a slim white hand that did not look capable of strangling anyone.

  ‘I was never one for violence myself,' said Mrs Kelly. ‘Not even in the heat of passion is it right...’ She pushed uncomfortably at her cap as she remembered the betrayal of her lover.

  ‘A person,' said Mrs Kelly, ‘a good person, may find themselves in a temper and lashing out with a plank in the heat of rage, and there may be some evil souls who would call that attempted murder. But there is something about the deliberate taking of life that is evil through and through!'

  ‘She did me a terrible wrong,’ Mary insisted hotly, ‘and I vowed that vengeance would be mine!’ Her blue eyes moved over the awe-struck girls. ‘Even now, every night, I take out the Black Queen from my pack of cards and work dark magic – like the Aboriginals' voodoo – on my former mistress.’

  ‘Who says the Aboriginals do voodoo? Not here in Botany they don’t!’ exclaimed Mrs Kelly. ‘And what use is your Black Queen and all that magic business – if the poor woman is dead!’

  Mary lifted her chin and looked at the cook as if she was a simpleton. ‘The witch may be dead – but I am not finished with her yet!’

  And with that she flounced out of the kitchen with all the haughtiness of a queen, for now being employed upstairs, she ate her meals in the kitchen of Mrs Ovens.

  When the meal was served on the table, Mrs Ovens sat herself down to enjoy the nonsense of Miss Mary Neely. Never had the kitchen been so alive or such fun since Mary had entered it. The girl was beautiful, fascinating, adorable, although you could not believe one word she said.

  ‘I'm not lying,’ Mary was saying to the other servants as she broke a piece of bread in her hands, ‘I lay in my bed night after night thinking of them, my black-haired witch of a mistress and her red-haired friend with the sly eyes. She hated me because I wouldn't kow-tow to her overblown opinion of herself. Oh yes, a right pair of witches they
were...’

  ‘Two nasty bints, if you ask me,’ said a maid.

  Mary nodded. ‘The two of them – they weren't worth that!’ She snapped her fingers with a display of condescension.

  Mrs Ovens shook her head over her stew in secret mirth. The girl had every servant round the table on her side, and they didn't even know the two women that Mary was talking about.

  ‘As my old grandma used to say, God rest her soul,’ Mary added with a deep sigh of affection. ‘When you grow up, Mary, she said, it’s not the ordinary plain-speaking people you have to be frightened of. Those you will know for what they are, and you will either like or dislike them as you please. No, says my grandma, it's the ones that are full of sweet-talk and smiles and empty promises that you have to watch. Those are the ones who will use you for their own gain and nothing more.’

  ‘Yer old grandma told you true!’ interrupted Mrs Ovens, pointing her spoon round the table and nodding in approval. ‘My dear mother used to say near enough the same. Never trust anyone that comes to you dripping with smiles and sugar. As sure as Old Nick, they'll be nasty as acid if you put one foot wrong.’

  ‘Smarmy gits, my ole dad used to call people like that,’ said Joseph Bigg thoughtfully. ‘Smarmy hypocrites that should be shot.’

  Oh Lor'! thought Mrs Ovens with amused amazement. She's even got Joseph Bigg wanting to commit murder now!

  ‘What did your mistress do to you, Mary?’ asked a young parlour maid. ‘You never did tell us what she done.’

  Mary's eyes glittered like cold sapphires. ‘She thought she could wipe me clean away as if I was no more important than a speck of dust on her table! Smash all my hopes and dreams as if they were no more valuable than cheap glass.’

  ‘Oh,she sounds a nasty one, all right, this mistress of yorn!’ said Mrs Ovens, dipping her bread into her stew and chuckling inwardly. ‘So tell us what you done, Mary m'dear. Tell us how you wreaked your vengeance? And every little detail, mind!’

  ‘Well,’ said Mary, narrowing her eyes as she looked slowly round the table, ‘I waited for her one dark night, when she thought I was long gone and herself forgotten by me. Foolish woman to think that I would ever forget her! I waited in the street just down from the house, and out she came … walking as smug and as self-satisfied as ever you did see a person walking … and then out of the darkness and quick as a flash I ran to her, and before anyone could see me – I stuck the knife in her! And down she flopped like a sack of flour. But not before she turned and looked me in the eyes, and saw – to her shocked surprise – who it was that had come out of the darkness and killed her.’

  ‘Ohhhh!’ Some of the maids were shuddering with delicious horror. It was awful and eerie and terrifying!

  ‘It was justice!’ Mary insisted, delicately dipping her spoon into her stew, while Mrs Ovens wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes with her apron. What a girl! What an imagination! And now came the big question that no one else had ever thought to ask Mary Neely. Now let's see how Mary would answer this one!

  ‘So tell me, you little she-devil, if you did commit murder, how is it that the judge only gave you seven years in Botany Bay and not the noose? After all, that is the law, a life for a life.’

  ‘Yeh, that's right!’ said a maid. ‘I got seven years for nicking a box of candles – so how come you got only the same for committing bloody murder?’

  Mary's composure did not flicker. Mrs Ovens had to admire her. The sheer sauce of the girl was a treat to watch!

  Mary finished her bread unhurriedly, smacked the crumbs delicately from her hands, then sat back languidly and surveyed her audience calmly.

  ‘Life, I said to the judge, you may take my life in due exchange and I’ll face my death bravely, because I do not repent of the deed, your worship. Nor will I ever repent! Not as long as I have breath. And the judge – a good man – he looks at me with the pitying and sorrowful eyes of a true Christian, and he says, "Miss Mary Neely, you have been cruelly wronged by that black-haired witch! And she did in all justice deserve to die. If it was up to me I would set you free, but the law is also cruel, and so I must punish you, with seven long years in Botany Bay."'

  ‘Oh, ducky!’ Mrs Ovens was laughing hysterically. ‘It's a wonder that old judge didn't follow you out here himself ... Rachel, fetch my rum! I need it bad! And here was me pining for dear old London, but they don't get entertainment like this in Drury Lane!’

  Tears spilled onto Mrs Ovens' fat cheeks. ‘Mary, I got a soft spot for you, girl, because you got the manners of a lady and the tales of a scoundrel. Murder indeed!’ Her whole body quaked with more laughter. She reached for her rum and gulped. ‘Well, I tell you this, Mary Neely, you kill me!’

  Chapter Twenty

  Some days later, after a two-week excursion up country, George Jarvis met Mary Neely for the first time. He and Lachlan had just ridden up the drive to Government House, dismounted, and were handing their horses into the care of grooms when a curricle driven by Joseph Bigg came trotting up the path behind them.

  Both men turned to look towards the open two-wheeled carriage where a girl was sitting with a baby in her arms.

  ‘G’morning, sir,’ Joseph Bigg touched his hat to the Governor. ‘The boy was cranky an teethin’ so Missis Macquarie asked us to take him out for a short ride in the cool air.’

  ‘And now he is fast asleep,’ Lachlan smiled, walking over to the carriage, opening the small door and reaching in to carefully lift his sleeping son from the girl’s arms. ‘May I?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The girl carefully handed the child over. ‘He was asleep as soon as the curricle started moving,’ she said.

  Lachlan looked at the girl curiously. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Mary Neely, sir.’

  Mary stepped down from the curricle and stood looking at the Governor with a nervous expression on her face. She was dressed in a neat blue dress and wore a straw bonnet over her golden hair.

  ‘Are you the daughter of one of Elizabeth’s friends?’

  ‘No, sir.’ Mary’s cheeks flushed pink. ‘I’m a convict-servant, sir.’

  Lachlan was clearly surprised. The girl was obviously new to the household, and yet it was only the Chosen Few that Elizabeth allowed anywhere near their son. And Elizabeth was no fool when it came to judging character.

  He said to the girl. ‘Have you had much experience in looking after children?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve had none.’

  ‘No experience? No younger brothers or sisters?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Even more surprised by her direct truthfulness, Lachlan glanced at George to determine his reaction, but George’s eyes were fixed on the girl.

  And it was this unusual attention given by George Jarvis to the convict girl that made Lachlan look more keenly at her. He saw a pretty, light-haired girl with a slender shape and that was all.

  ‘She’s a good girl, Your Excellency.’ Joseph Bigg had stepped down from his bench in order to speak up for the girl. ‘And she has a knack with the baby there – soon as she lifts him up he stops cryin’ – according to the mistress.’

  ‘Then I am much obliged to you,’ Lachlan said to the girl and turned away to carry his beloved son indoors.

  Mary Neely and George Jarvis were left to follow, while Joseph Bigg climbed back on his bench to take the curricle and two horses back to the stables.

  At the door to the house, George politely and silently stood aside to let the girl pass. And now they were only inches apart, she looked straight at George and he looked straight back at her.

  ‘And you are George Jarvis,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I know I am,’ George answered.

  She waited for him to say something more, not sure if he was being sarcastic, but when he didn't say anything more she was not sure whether to be amused or offended. She nodded briefly and walked on.

  George watched her go. She moved with light and easy steps that made her look as if she might suddenly skip i
nto a dance. Everything about her was too light and too lovely for her to harbour any dark secret, but this was New South Wales and she was a convict ... and knowing nothing about her yet, George's impulse to quicken his steps and catch up with her was checked by the thought that she might have committed some terrible crime.

  Although, as he strolled slowly down the hall and watched her skip lightly up the stairs towards the nursery, his deep and powerful intuition told him that whatever her crime, it had to be something forgivable.

  *

  ‘What did she do?’ George asked Lachlan.

  It was the first time George Jarvis had ever asked such a question about a convict.

  Lachlan considered the papers on the table before him and decided to answer the question.

  ‘Oh, nothing very bad. Elizabeth would not have allowed her near our child if she had.’

  ‘But you checked her papers, nevertheless, as soon as you came in today?’

  ‘Of course I did. Anyone who works close enough to get even a glimpse of my son is closely checked, as well you know.’

  ‘So, what was her crime?’

  ‘She was accused of stealing a small silver mirror from her mistress's bedroom. Her defence was that the maids in the attic had no mirror, but the mistress had many. So at night, especially when a maid had a night off, Miss Mary Neely would slip down to her mistress's bedroom and "borrow" a mirror. Until the night she was caught by a female guest, coming out of the bedroom of the lady of the house, carrying the mirror under her pinafore. Her mistress had her immediately arrested and charged at Leicester Assizes with theft, for which she was sentenced to seven years in Botany Bay.'

  When George made no comment, Lachlan looked at him with smiling curiosity. ‘So you've looked her over, have you, George? And now you want to know more about her?’

  George shrugged. ‘I was merely interested in her crime.’

  ‘Well now you know. Her crime was the alleged theft of a small mirror. Elizabeth is quite certain that Mary Neely is basically a decent girl who would not hurt anyone.’