‘The cutter is in fine shape now,’ Will said, as if to reassure himself. ‘Even the weather is on our side.’
Mary looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, and unless it suddenly cleared it would obscure the moon tonight. The breeze was very light, but that hardly mattered as they would be letting the tide carry them out of the bay – oars would make too much noise and sails would be too conspicuous.
‘We’re going to do it,’ she said firmly. ‘I know we are.’
It was dark by six, and in the next couple of hours, the men arrived one by one and left silently, each with a sack of goods to be taken further down the shore to the agreed departure point.
Emmanuel and Charlotte were both sound asleep in bed. Mary had no fears that Emmanuel would wake when she picked him up, but Charlotte was a different story. She had been tiresome all day, whining and throwing tantrums. Clearly she had sensed that something was going on, and if she woke to find herself in a boat, she might start screaming.
Mary’s mouth was dry with fright as she saw the last sack taken from the secret store under the floor and she was left alone with the sleeping children. Sam Broome would be back soon to help her with them. She would carry Charlotte, he would take Emmanuel, for Will would be waiting for Bennelong to bring in the boat.
She knelt down by the bed and offered up a last-minute prayer for their safety, but her attention wandered to all that this little hut had meant to her in the last three years.
It had been a haven, the one place where she felt an element of peace and safety. She had found joy in love-making with Will, there had been the happiness of Emmanuel’s birth, and so many different milestones in Charlotte’s development, from her first steps to her first words. Now they were leaving it for the unknown.
‘Mary!’
She jumped at the sound of Sam’s whisper, and turned to see him in the doorway. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
She realized he was embarrassed at interrupting her prayers.
‘It’s all right,’ she whispered as she got up from her knees. ‘Have you see Bennelong yet?’
Sam came right into the hut and looked down at the sleeping children. In the light from the flickering candle his lean face had an almost skeletal quality. He was not a handsome, confident man like Will, but the tender way he looked at the sleeping children touched Mary.
‘Will thought he saw him swimming out to the cutter,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t make out anything though, it’s too dark, but he said you were to come now.’
Mary lifted up Emmanuel, wrapped him more securely in his blanket, then passed him to Sam. Picking up a sling she’d made from some canvas, she tucked it round the sleeping baby. She tied one set of straps around Sam’s waist and the other two were put over his shoulders, crossed at his back and then secured in the front.
‘It will leave your hands free,’ she said by way of an explanation, afraid he might be irritated at her treating him like a nursemaid.
He gave her a faint grin. ‘I’m scared. Are you?’ he whispered.
Mary shook her head. Her stomach was churning, she was breaking out in a cold sweat, and the greater part of her wished she’d never dreamed up this plan. But she wasn’t going to admit to any of that.
‘We will do it, Sam,’ she said with more bravado than conviction, and turned back to the bed for Charlotte.
As she lifted the child up into her arms, Charlotte muttered in her sleep, but her head drooped down on her mother’s shoulder and she didn’t wake. Sam picked up the blanket and tucked it round the child, then smiled at Mary. ‘Ready?’
‘Almost,’ Mary said, and leaning down to the little table picked up a cloth bag.
‘What’s that?’ Sam whispered as the bag rustled.
‘Sweet tea leaves,’ Mary said, and smiled. ‘I have to take the one thing that we liked about this place, don’t I?’
They stole silently from the hut, pausing every now and then to check no one was about. Further back towards the town they could see the faint glow from dying fires, but the only sounds were the usual night ones of a sentry’s boots up on the quay, snoring from huts, the odd muted cough and the water lapping on the beach. Charlotte stirred in her mother’s arms, but Mary wrapped the blanket round her tighter to keep out the cool air, and walked faster to keep up with Sam.
Once Mary’s eyes had grown used to the dark, she could just make out the cutter coming towards the shore and Bennelong swimming before it, invisible except for a flash of white teeth every now and then.
She knew that if anyone had discovered their plan, it would be in the next few minutes that they would be stopped. Her ears ached with the strain of listening for running feet, every muscle was taut, and she expected to hear a musket fire with every step. When Will stepped out of the bushes in front of her she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was so eerie: the dark beach, the eight men all standing as still as statues, and the bundles lying like so many boulders. No one said a word, everyone watching as the cutter came closer and closer in.
Will waded out a little way, then swam almost as silently as Bennelong to help him bring the boat in closer. It glided in, just a few feet away, and James Martin waded into the water, climbed into the boat and signalled for the others to bring out the bundles.
Mary’s nerves were now at almost breaking point, for every small sound seemed magnified. She rocked Charlotte gently, willing her not to wake, and wished the men could be a little quicker with their loading.
‘I’ll take her now,’ William Moreton whispered to Mary, holding out his arms. ‘You go and get in.’
It was the moment Mary had been dreading most, for the child was bound to wake if she was moved from her arms. Yet she knew she couldn’t hold her and climb into the boat too. But William took Charlotte as gently as if she were his own child, and nodded to Mary to go.
Hitching her dress up high, Mary waded out silently, then taking a seat she held out her arms for Charlotte again. William Moreton handed her over, then got in. Next came Sam Broome, with Emmanuel, seating himself beside Mary.
Bennelong was grinning, his teeth and eyeballs flashing like white lights as he held the boat steady for the other men to get in with the muskets wrapped in oil cloth. Will sat at the tiller, Nat Lilly and Jamie Cox on either side of him, Bill Allen was the last. Bennelong gave the boat a hefty shove, and they were off.
Bennelong swam with them for some distance, pushing the boat until it caught in the current and began to drift slowly down the bay. Then he broke away, waved his hands in farewell and disappeared into the darkness as silently as a fish.
It was some time before Mary realized she had been holding her breath.
It seemed like many tortuous hours before they finally saw the Heads looming up ahead, like twin black mountains, although in reality it couldn’t have been more than three. Everyone remained absolutely silent, for if they were spotted or heard by the lookout he would raise the alarm and shots would be fired.
All at once the water became choppier, they felt the current surging, dragging the heavily laden boat towards the gap between the Heads, and Will was wrestling with the tiller to get them safely through. Charlotte woke, sat straight up on Mary’s lap and looked around her in astonishment.
‘Hoist the sail,’ Will whispered. ‘Freedom is ours!’
The sail billowed out, the wind caught it, and all at once they were speeding along, the moon suddenly coming out from behind thick cloud as if to join them in their celebration. James Martin, always the most voluble of the men, gave a low rumble of a laugh, and was quickly joined by the others.
‘We’re free,’ Will said in a shaky voice, as if he could hardly believe it. ‘By God, we’re free!’
Mary couldn’t speak, only smile. She turned her head to look back, but could see nothing but the black rocks and the passageway they’d come through.
She felt no sadness at leaving, it wasn’t in her nature to have regrets. Ahead was all that counted. But she did have a picture in her mind of Tench
asleep in his bed, and that gave her a little pang of sorrow.
She had never seen him sleeping, shaving, washing or without his clothes. In her mind he would always be in his red jacket, white breeches and long, highly polished boots, striding along the quay. She would remember his soft brown eyes too, and the way his hand felt when he touched hers. All those many little kindnesses.
If she had a regret it was only that she hadn’t said goodbye, told him just once that she cared for him. But such thoughts were foolish, because he wouldn’t have been able to be party to an escape.
She glanced back once more, sending a silent message to him on the wind, knowing she would never see him again. Then she turned back and made a loud whoop of delight at their freedom.
While she had no idea if they could make it all the way to Kupang, it was enough that the plan to get out of the harbour had worked. She looked around at the eight jubilant male faces, and knew that in her own way she’d won a victory. She might not be able to read and write, or navigate like Will could, and perhaps none of the men would ever acknowledge her part in the escape, but she knew the truth, and come what may, she intended to see they found safety and permanent freedom.
She pressed her lips into Charlotte’s forehead, aware that in the weeks ahead she would have to be constantly on guard over her children.
‘Haven’t you got anything to say about my ingenious plan, Mary?’ Will shouted out.
For a brief second she considered pointing out the plan was hardly his. But as her father had often said, ‘A battle is won by strategy, not by superior force.’
‘Well done, Will,’ she said, and smiled at him with affection. ‘You are a clever, brave man.’
Chapter twelve
After two days at sea, Mary found herself feeling exactly the way she had on the cart from Exeter to the Dunkirk. Just like then, she had started out with so much enthusiasm, then came the aching all over from sitting in the same position for so long. At night she was chilled to the marrow, by day the sun and wind made her face raw. Yet on the trip to Devonport she hadn’t had children to placate, amuse and control too. While Emmanuel at least stayed in one place, mostly on her lap, Charlotte kept trying to move around.
Mary had fallen asleep for a couple of hours at a time, once the children were sleeping, but she kept waking with a start, afraid that whoever was at the tiller had dropped off too, and that they were drifting on to rocks.
Yet despite the discomfort, she certainly hadn’t found herself wishing she was back in Sydney Cove. The weather was good, with steady north to north-east winds driving them along, and all the men were still in high spirits, discussing endlessly how different people back in the settlement would have reacted to their escape.
‘Cap’n Phillip will be wild with fury, to be sure,’ James Martin said gleefully.
‘I hope Sarah wasn’t too sore at me when she found my note,’ Jamie Cox said with a touch of sadness.
‘You did well not to give in to temptation and tell her before we left,’ Mary said soothingly. She knew Jamie was very fond of Sarah Young, and it must have been hard for him to leave her behind.
Although Mary thought she had known all the men quite well before they left the settlement, she had soon discovered they all had aspects to their personalities she hadn’t been aware of before. James Martin, the ugly Irishman, had always been amusing, a funny man who could tell a great story, but something of a rake, chasing women and drink, and always ready for a fight. Yet she had found him to be unexpectedly fatherly, often taking Charlotte or Emmanuel into his arms to give her a break.
Red-haired, freckle-faced Samuel Bird had seemed to her a very morose man, and she had never really understood why Will thought so much of him. Yet now they were free he was laughing as much as anyone else and though he didn’t say much, he listened to the others and responded.
Bill Allen and Nat Lilly were the ones she knew least, and they were complete opposites. Bill was stocky and bald-headed, with a pug nose that looked as if it had been pummelled with fists. In fact he looked every inch the ‘Iron Man’ of his nickname. Nat, with his cherubic face, big eyes and long blond hair, wasn’t tough at all, in fact Mary had considered him a bit of a nancy boy. But he fitted in with any group of men he was set to work with, and everyone liked him. He was also very loyal to Will.
Both Nat and Bill had been in better health than any of the other men who arrived with the Second Fleet, and Mary had never discovered why. In Nat’s case it was probably better not to ask.
It was this ability to survive which had made Mary pick both men for the escape. Yet now she saw they were both surprisingly sensitive. On the very first morning they had fixed up an awning to protect the children from the sun, and took charge of doling out the food fairly.
William Moreton was undoubtedly one of the more intelligent prisoners. He was also unattractive, with a large domed forehead, bulging eyes and a tight, narrow mouth. Sadly, he wasn’t improving with knowing; he was very argumentative, and Mary was a little afraid he was going to put someone’s back up before long.
Even Jamie Cox and Sam Broome, both quiet, thoughtful men who had appeared to be content to be led by the nose by the others, had asserted themselves a little. At one point Jamie had been brave enough to tell Will to stop bragging, and Sam Broome had told James Martin to mind his language because of Mary and Charlotte. Mary had no doubt that in the next few weeks she would find out even more surprising things about everyone.
Now and then the men would talk dreamily about what they would do when they got back to England. They all knew that it would be foolhardy to attempt going to their home towns, for fear of being re-arrested. London was the favourite destination, there they would be inconspicuous, and with a new name they could start all over again.
Mary couldn’t bring herself to think that far ahead, it seemed like tempting Fate to her. The reality of it was that they had no money, their clothes were in rags, and they’d need a tremendous amount of luck to avoid turning back to crime.
Yet despite her qualms sometimes she couldn’t help but lapse into a little day-dream in which she found herself walking up the cobbled street from Fowey harbour holding her children by their hands. She imagined standing at the open door and seeing her mother inside the house, bent over the cooking pot on the fire. She would turn her head, see them and almost faint with surprise and delight. It was of course an unrealistic and fanciful day-dream, but it helped Mary’s aching back and warmed her very bones.
The weather turned on the third day, with rain and a stronger blustery wind, and Will became concerned at the boat being rather overloaded. ‘We must find somewhere to land until it passes,’ he said.
A little later William Moreton, who was up in the bows, suddenly bellowed out that he could see what looked like a good spot.
Everyone looked to where he was pointing and saw a small cove with a pebble beach. Will went in closer to check for rocks under the water, and as there were none, agreed it was ideal.
‘Let’s hope there’s a tavern,’ James exclaimed.
That made everyone laugh, even William Moreton who hadn’t appeared to have been amused by James’s sense of humour up till now.
Will brought the boat in as close to the beach as he could, then James swam ashore with a rope to pull her into the shallows.
‘Natives have been here,’ James said, once they were all safely on the beach. He pointed to the charred remains of a fire and a great many fish bones.
‘Well, they aren’t here now,’ Will said, scanning the cove carefully. ‘Besides, I know enough of their words to tell them we mean no harm.’
The rain stopped, the sun came out again, and Mary chased Charlotte along the beach, laughing at the sheer joy of a night on dry land. There was a stream of fresh water from which they refilled their water cask and washed their salt-encrusted faces, and Mary found a plant that looked like cabbage. While Will, Bill and James took the seine net to fish, William lit a fire, Samuel Bird and Nat
collected wood, and Sam Broome and Jamie Cox made a crude shelter under the trees.
The fishing was good, the men came back with a quantity of grey mullet, and along with some of the rice they’d brought with them, and the cabbage leaves, it was quite a feast.
‘But for the dire lack of beer and some buxom wenches, I could be happy here,’ James said, as he lay back on the beach after the meal.
Mary giggled. She hadn’t always approved of James in the past, but she was growing to like him more with every hour that passed. His sense of the ridiculous warmed her and he could make time pass so quickly with his stories. She had always thought him a strange-looking man before, with his very bony, lopsided face, large ears and nose, and thick dark eyebrows that met in the middle. Her mother had always said that was a sign that a man was ‘born to be hung’, and perhaps he was, for he had only escaped it by a hair’s-breadth. But his lack of good looks was compensated by his personality. She didn’t find it so odd now that many women back at the settlement were after him.
That night they all slept well, huddled together in their shelter, the fire just outside. As Mary lay there, waiting for sleep to overtake her, Will curled against her back and the children tucked in between her and Sam, she felt warm, well fed and really happy. It wasn’t just that she was freed from the penal colony, more that something inside her had been set free.
As a child she’d always wished she’d been born a boy, purely so she could go fishing, climb rocks and have adventures. Girls just didn’t get opportunities to do anything more than ape their mothers, waiting on the menfolk. She supposed that when she went off to Plymouth that would change, but of course it didn’t. All these years since she was first imprisoned, she’d had to yield to men’s superiority, just to survive. But here she was with eight men, and she knew in her heart that in the weeks to come they were going to become dependent on her. She already sensed their admiration for her. She saw in their eyes and their manner that they knew she had dreamed up the plan, however loudly Will boasted otherwise. When she’d taken her turn at the tiller, they realized she knew boats almost as well as Will.
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