Remember Me

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘Doing fine,’ Mary said, looking down at the sleeping baby she had tied across her in a shawl for safety. ‘I wonder if there’s any babies on the other ships?’

  ‘Several, I heard,’ Will said. ‘So at least Charlotte will have some playmates when she’s bigger.’

  ‘And if folk get married like the Reverend suggested, there’ll soon be more,’ Mary added.

  Will laughed. ‘A lot won’t wait for a wedding service. Reckon we’ll be overrun with babbies afore the first year’s over.’

  ‘But there’s three men to every woman,’ Mary said pointedly. ‘I reckon wives will be in great demand.’

  She felt nervous now, sure this was the moment, but afraid to say what was on her mind.

  ‘I’ll do all right,’ Will said. ‘I’ll have them lining up for me.’

  Mary felt a stab of irritation at his arrogance. ‘You’d better choose carefully then,’ she said sharply. ‘From what I’ve seen below these decks few of the women have any common sense, and the ones on the other ships may be even more stupid.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be a bad prospect for any man,’ Will said unexpectedly. ‘You’ve got a good head on you, and you ain’t a slattern like most.’

  Mary took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘I’d be a good prospect for you,’ she blurted out. ‘I know boats and fishing. We come from the same place, the officers like us both.’

  Will seemed staggered at such a suggestion. He stared at her open-mouthed.

  ‘Are you wanting me to wed you?’ he said at length, his voice a little strained.

  ‘You could do a lot worse,’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘I’m healthy and strong, I can work hard for what I want. I know I’ve got Charlotte and maybe a man doesn’t want another’s around…’ She stopped suddenly, unable to think of any other good reason why he should choose her, and ashamed she had to beg.

  ‘Well I never,’ Will exclaimed, but he grinned broadly. ‘I thought you was too proud to bend to anyone.’

  ‘I’m not bending,’ she said quickly. ‘I like you, and it’s practical.’

  ‘I’d want a wife who does more than just like me,’ he said. ‘I want her to be hot for me.’

  Mary was prepared to go to some lengths to get Will to agree to her proposition, but she didn’t feel able to pretend a great passion for him. Faced with his smug grin, she felt foolish and inadequate.

  ‘We’ve been good friends for over a year,’ she said after a few minutes’ thought. ‘Would you want a friend to lie to you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said, though he was still grinning smugly. ‘But I’d still like a wife who was hot for me.’

  ‘Maybe I could be, in time,’ she said wildly, blushing scarlet because she was sure he’d rush off to the other men and tell them what had passed between them. ‘We haven’t had a chance to get to know each other like that yet.’ But before she could say anything further, a sudden shout of warning came from one of the Marines – clearly they were too close together for the man’s comfort.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Mary said quickly. ‘Think on it.’

  The weeks that followed were hard, with violent storms and squalls, contrasting with periods of calm when the ship barely moved. The fresh-water ration was cut to conserve it, the food was becoming rotten. Mary had times of extreme anxiety when her milk looked as if it might fail, and she was frightened too of what lay ahead.

  Most of the other women were so empty-headed they appeared to imagine they were going to a place that would be ready for them. Mary knew they would be living in tents, and that it was likely some of the foodstuffs taken with them would have perished on the voyage, the same way as many of the animals had. Before Charlotte’s birth she had never dwelt on the possibility of the ship being wrecked, but now the fear was with her in every storm. The waters they were sailing in were barely charted, none of the crew had been there before. For all anyone knew, the natives in Botany Bay could be cannibals, there could be wild animals that would tear them apart.

  But even worse in one respect was that Will hadn’t said another word to her about her proposition. She didn’t know if that meant he was still thinking about it, or if he found it too ludicrous to contemplate.

  Chapter five

  1788

  Mary was just coming up the companionway with Charlotte in her arms when she heard the cry ‘Land ahoy’. A surge of wild excitement grabbed her and she rushed up the last few steps and across the deck, to join crew members and other prisoners at the rail.

  It didn’t look much like land to her, just a slightly darker line on the far horizon which could easily be cloud, but she knew the sailor up in the rigging who had spotted it was unlikely to be wrong.

  It was January, a whole year since Mary had been transferred to the Charlotte from the Dunkirk, eight months of that time spent at sea. Charlotte was now five months old. Five male prisoners and a Marine’s wife on the Charlotte had died, but their deaths were attributed to diseases they carried with them from England, rather than lack of care on the voyage. In the main the prisoners were healthier than when they’d boarded the ship, thanks to fresh air and better rations. Few people had escaped some kind of accident, however, whether a broken limb or mere cuts and bruises, for the ship’s deck and steps were dangerously slippery during foul weather.

  On the whole, Mary had found the voyage an enjoyable experience. While she was often terrified in the worst of the storms, and despaired at the spite and depravity of some of her fellow prisoners, this had been balanced by the happiness Charlotte had given her. Contrary to all the gloomy predictions, she was thriving. She seemed to charm everyone, from the officers, Marines and sailors right down to the other prisoners, with her ready smiles and placid gurgling. She had given Mary real hope for the future, but now they were nearly at their destination, Mary’s natural excitement was also tinged with anxiety.

  Tench had told her back in Cape Town that the fleet would be split, the fastest ships going on ahead to prepare the settlement, but she knew that hadn’t happened. Bad weather and unfavourable winds had slowed the first ships down, and the others, which included the Charlotte, had caught up with them. Mary could see all the ships now, and it was daunting to know there would be nothing ready for them, and that for all they knew the natives could be hostile.

  Will Bryant and little Jamie Cox were at the rails, and Mary joined them. ‘’Tis a grand sight,’ Will said with enthusiasm, making an expansive gesture with his hands at the other ships. ‘I feared we might lose at least one of them, but they’ve all made it.’

  The prospect of shipwreck had been in everyone’s minds during the bad storms, and doubly so for Mary with Charlotte to protect. She had always found it comforting after a bad night to see at least one of the other ships close by in the morning. Will’s remark suggested he felt this too.

  ‘Aren’t you scared of what’s to come?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Only that there won’t be enough food to support us till we’ve grown some,’ he admitted somewhat reluctantly.

  ‘And you, Jamie?’ Mary asked.

  He smiled shyly. ‘The natives mostly. What if they’re cannibals?’

  ‘You won’t make much of a meal for them,’ Mary laughed, and prodded him in the side. Jamie had put on a little more flesh during the voyage, but he still looked like a skinny child to her.

  ‘So what are you scared of?’ Will asked Mary.

  ‘The other prisoners we don’t know, mostly,’ she said. ‘And whether I’ll be able to keep Charlotte safe and well.’

  ‘I’ll be looking out for you,’ he said, patting her on the arm with one great paw.

  Mary wondered exactly what that remark meant. Although she had gradually picked up the old friendship she’d had with him before her proposal, she’d never mentioned it again, and neither had he. She had to assume he didn’t want her as a wife, and that silence was his way of not embarrassing her further.

  ‘I hope you mean that,’ she said with a sm
ile. ‘But I expect you’ll be kept busy taking your pick of all the women. So I won’t count on it.’

  It was another three days before the Charlotte sailed into Botany Bay, for the wind had been against them. But there were no cheers, smiles or laughter from the seamen, Marines, officers or prisoners as they got their first view of the new land they’d come so far to populate. For once they all reacted in the same way, shocked into silence.

  It looked utterly desolate, and parched by the burning sun. There was none of the expected green pasture, the few trees were scrubby and stunted. Yet even more daunting was the sight of the very black, stark naked natives who brandished spears menacingly at the ships. It was quite clear they weren’t pleased to see white strangers invading their territory.

  Most of the fleet had got there before the Charlotte, and a party of officers and Marines had already gone ashore to try to find a suitable site for their camp. But the prisoners were not allowed to stay on deck to watch the proceedings; once again they were made to return to the holds where they were locked in.

  It was weeks later that Mary heard what had happened during the long days when she and her companions were incarcerated below decks in the suffocating heat. One story that would have amused them was that the natives hadn’t known which gender the white officers were, and one of the group was asked to drop his breeches to show them.

  It seemed that Captain Arthur Phillip had managed to divert the natives’ hostility with gifts of beads and trinkets, but he’d been alarmed to find Botany Bay could not support over a thousand people and all the animals. The soil wasn’t fertile, and the water supply was in the wrong place. So, with a small party, he set out in the ship’s boats to try to find a more agreeable place further down the coast, leaving the rest of the company to clear trees in case he couldn’t find anywhere better.

  He came to a place called Port Jackson which he understood from Captain Cook’s report to be a mere cove. As it was late afternoon he ordered his men to row in through the two giant headlands to check it, and once inside discovered it was not a cove at all, but a huge natural harbour, the best he’d ever seen anywhere in the world.

  Delighted to find such a jewel with many sheltered bays, trees and fresh water, he pressed on and came to a place where the water was deep enough for the ships to come close to shore. He named it Sydney Cove after Lord Sydney, Secretary of State, to whom he sent his despatches. It even appeared that the natives were more friendly there too. So Sydney Cove was where the first settlement in New South Wales would be.

  Mary and the other prisoners knew nothing of all this. Sweating and gasping in the heat of the holds, all they knew was that they’d been landed in a hellish, barren place peopled by fearsome savages. It was no wonder that many of them believed their long voyage had been for nothing and now they were going to die.

  It was only on 26 January, when the prisoners heard the weighing of the anchor and the sound of sails being hoisted, that they felt a renewal of hope for their future.

  By the time the Charlotte reached Sydney Cove it was night-time and too dark to see anything. The prisoners were not told that the flag-ship Sirius had arrived much earlier in the day, and that its officers had gone ashore, raised the English flag and held a simple ceremony where they fired a volley and toasted the royal family and the success of the new colony. But it was obvious to all the prisoners from the joyous shouts coming from the ships’ companies anchored out in the bay, that this was where they would be settling.

  Down in the steamy, fetid darkness of the holds they couldn’t share in the excitement. They felt relief that they would soon be walking on solid ground and sleeping in tents, but they were fearful too, for this new prison which they had yet to build was so remote that they knew it was unlikely they would see England and their loved ones there again.

  At first light the following morning the sound of axes felling trees filled the air and the women rushed to the hatches to look out.

  ‘Looks better than that other place,’ Bessie said cheerfully.

  ‘It does too,’ Mary agreed. The early-morning sun was glinting on the turquoise sea, and on land there were many trees, some quite large ones growing on the hills behind the bay. While there wasn’t what could be called pasture anywhere that she could see, this place certainly didn’t have the same desolate appearance as Botany Bay.

  As they watched, they saw boats being lowered from the other ships, and male prisoners on the Friendship climbing down to them.

  ‘I wonder when we’ll go ashore,’ Bessie said longingly.

  ‘I hope it’s soon,’ Mary sighed. ‘It’s far too hot for Charlotte down here.’

  It was over a week later that the women left the ships. They were allowed up on deck during that time as the men put up tents, cut trees and built store-sheds and a saw-mill, but they were told they had to stay on board until there was more order ashore.

  Excitement grew with each day. It reminded Mary keenly of the sense of expectation before May Day back home. Women who had other clothes stored got them out and went through them to find something more fetching to wear, but most of them, like Mary, had arrived on the Charlotte with only the clothes they stood up in.

  A new generosity bloomed, however, and ribbons, pieces of lace and small trinkets were offered to others who had nothing. They helped one another wash and curl their hair, and those who could sew were eager to assist those who couldn’t.

  They could hear the women on the Lady Penryn engaged in much the same way. Their laughter and ribald comments wafted across to the Charlotte, and the rigging was festooned with drying clothes in every colour of the rainbow.

  Although Mary felt every bit as excited as the other women, she was nervous too. Just a glance across to the Lady Penryn was to know that all those London women were going to be more worldly than her, and undoubtedly more attractive. On board the Charlotte she had a sort of distinction, admired for her ability to speak up for the women and her sense of fair play, and for being a mother. Her friendship with Will would almost certainly protect her from any harm amongst his large group of friends. She was also respected by most of the officers and Marines. She’d even gained the trust of their wives and children.

  But on shore she would have to start all over again. She would need to be on her guard all the time. She was afraid that Mary Haydon and Catherine Fryer might seek to malign her to anyone who would listen, and enjoy seeing her humiliated. Officers from other ships wouldn’t give her the trust and freedom she’d grown used to. She would be just a very small fish in a big pond, with no one to protect her and Charlotte.

  On Sunday, 3 February a church service was held for the men by the Reverend Richard Johnson, under the shade of a big tree. Like all the women, Mary watched from the ship’s deck, a little awed to see around 700 men, prisoners, officers, Marines and sailors gathered together in prayer. Will stood taller and broader than most of the men, his fair hair bleached almost white in the sun. Jamie Cox stood next to him, so small he looked like a child compared to Will.

  A mop of red hair in the crowd made Mary look more intently and to her surprise she saw it was Samuel Bird. Looking again, she saw James Martin beside him, his stooped shoulders and big nose unmistakable.

  She was thrilled, for it was almost like seeing family members again, and she had to assume they’d been put on one of the other transport ships, maybe even separated from Will purposely to prevent them from inciting any kind of rebellion together.

  Tench stood with the other officers, his hat tucked under his arm, and just the distance between prisoners and officers was a further reminder to Mary that the friendship between herself and Tench was unlikely to continue now the voyage was over.

  Three days later the women went ashore. The excitement had been building up gradually over the last week, and as they were rowed to shore, Mary felt as giddy and giggly as her companions. It was wonderful to see everyone so happy, after the hardships on the voyage, with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, just lik
e a bunch of bridesmaids at a wedding party.

  For Mary, the prospect of walking on dry land again, to be rid of the smell of slop buckets, and to escape the nightly menace of rats was enough to start her heart pounding. But she was aware that for the other women it was mostly the men waiting on the shore that had them fired up.

  As the boat got closer to the shore and Mary could clearly see the men waiting for them, she felt suddenly afraid, and hugged Charlotte closer to her breast. The expression on the men’s faces reminded her of when a ship came into Fowey harbour after weeks at sea. She had observed that same hungry look then, and although she hadn’t understood at the time why her mother always called her and Dolly indoors, she did now.

  Sailors had a kind of rough charm, they were fit and strong, scrubbed up to look their best for shore leave. But these men waiting for the women prisoners were ragged and dirty, more like a vast pack of wild dogs than human beings.

  Some of the women began to shout crude things to them, pulling their neck-lines lower and blowing kisses. In another boat coming from the Lady Penryn, one woman actually stood up and lifted her dress to show her private parts.

  Marines pushed the men back as the boats were grounded on the beach and the women climbed out, but it seemed to Mary that the Marines were almost as bad as the convicts. They were laughing, winking, grabbing at the women’s hands, and there was certainly no sense of them being there to protect the fairer sex.

  Mary elbowed her way through the crowd, Charlotte’s small crib under one arm, the other defensively round her child, almost deafened by the cat-calls, crude remarks and appeals for a kiss. It was exhilarating, like all the fairs and festivals she’d ever been to rolled into one, but frightening at the same time. It seemed odd to her that the officers were just standing by watching after all their stringent efforts to keep the men and women apart during the voyage.