by Sarah Lark
Lizzie now remembered having seen the woman once before. Franny Gray. She owned a brothel on Hanbury Street.
“How did you land here?” Lizzie asked. “I thought . . . if you had a house . . .”
The whores on the street had always envied Franny Gray’s girls a bit—not to mention the brothel owner herself, who seemed to be raking in money.
“I’m asking the questions here,” Franny clarified. “And don’t you worry about me. I’ll be out of here before you can even say ‘bail,’ though that’s not as fast as Velvet can pull a watch out of a man’s pocket.” She indicated the dark-haired girl again, and the others laughed. Then she returned to interrogating Lizzie. “So, where’d you get the brats? Stole ’em? Showing ’em the ropes? Did you already sell ’em? Love, I wouldn’t ’ave thought you the kind.”
Franny frowned disapprovingly.
Lizzie exploded. “How dare you talk to me like that! As if, as if . . . My God, yes, I whore and sometimes steal, but that doesn’t mean I’d teach children to do so. The little ones are Hannah’s—the redhead who works Dorset Street. I live with her, and the children, damn it, the children always . . .”
With that, Lizzie turned away. She could well imagine what would become of Toby and Laura if Hannah had to care for them alone.
Candy laughed. “I told you, I did, Franny. A sweetheart. An angel. She’s just hiding ’er ’alo. It just won’t ’elp you, Lizzie. And as for Hannah, I wouldn’t rely on ’er either.”
Lizzie had hoped Hannah would soon come visit her—word of arrests spread quickly in the neighborhood, and everyone knew about the comforts a few pence could buy a prisoner. If it had been Hannah who’d been caught by the police, Lizzie would have taken another customer so she could help her friend.
Suddenly two guards appeared to let Franny out. “It proved to be a mistake, the matter with the gentleman’s wallet,” one of them explained reluctantly. “He had misplaced it after all. Anyway, he has his wallet now and regrets the misunderstanding.”
Franny signaled her triumph and rushed out of the cell. Lizzie wondered how the woman had arranged the matter—from a cell, no less. But she was probably always prepared for such eventualities. The customer who had been robbed had gotten his wallet back. How Franny’s people had made him apologize on top of that defied Lizzie’s understanding.
Lizzie did not receive a visitor until the next day, after a hellish night in the holding cell. Franny’s share of the bench had been immediately occupied—this time by a woman far less affable than Franny. The new cell boss was a fighter and, by appearance, a beast. She made direct overtures to terrorize the others.
“We should try to get out of here,” Candy sighed. “Tomorrow she’ll want better food, and then she’ll take all of ours away to make money from it.”
“But we don’t have anything.” Lizzie said.
Candy laughed derisively. This was not her first stay in jail. She had served two years for prostitution and expected a similar sentence this time. Though they might send her to the colonies as a repeat offender.
“We still ’ave our clothes,” she said. “If you look around . . .”
Lizzie looked at the other women. A few were only wearing ragged underskirts over which they pulled their holey shawls in embarrassment. At least it wasn’t cold in the cell; all those bodies kept it warm.
“And that little ’at of yours, you should try your luck selling it to one of the guards,” Candy said. “He might take it ’ome to his wife. In any case, you might get lucky and ’ave ’im move you to another cell.”
Lizzie was willing to part with her hat, but her name was called before she had the chance to haggle with a guard.
“Elizabeth Owens,” a bored guard read aloud from a piece of paper. “Your lawyer is waiting outside. Speak with him; your trial is this afternoon.”
Lizzie gathered new hope. Perhaps she really would be free soon. For a loaf of bread, they couldn’t possibly punish her as severely as a jewelry thief like Velvet.
Her lawyer was completely uninterested in Lizzie’s story. As she learned immediately, he represented her and Candy and Velvet and all the women who did not have the money to afford a better attorney.
“It might be that the judge takes extenuating circumstances into account,” he said placidly, “but I would not count on that. The prisons are full.”
“But if he lets me go, there’ll be an open spot,” Lizzie said, bewildered.
The lawyer laughed. “Love, they can’t just let you all go. Where would we be if you could all steal and prostitute yourselves and the next day we let you all go free? No, just forget that. If the judge is kind, you’ll get five years.”
“Five years? Five years in prison for a loaf of bread?” Lizzie looked at the man, horrified.
“It was more than a loaf though. From what I hear, you took a few pastries with it; that doesn’t fit with robbing because of hunger. Which is why I don’t think the judge will make a mild ruling. Sentence could run seven years, love, and seven years means deportation.”
“You, you mean they’d send me to the colonies?” Lizzie could not believe it.
“That’s what it would amount to, so be prepared.”
“But isn’t there anything that can be done? If the judge sees the children . . . no one will care for the children when I’m gone.”
Lizzie did not want to cry; indeed, she had meant to smile. But now tears ran down her cheeks. She was not really afraid of Australia. It could not be worse than London. But Toby and Laura . . . and seven years, seven years in prison.
Her lawyer shrugged. But Lizzie was determined to fight. She pulled her little hat out of the pocket in her dress.
“Here, sir. I don’t have any money, but you can sell this.”
The attorney’s threadbare suit looked as if it had come from a market like the one Lizzie’s clothes had, and it was in worse shape.
Lizzie confirmed. “That will earn a few pence. But please go down Whitechapel Road and speak with my friend. She should bring the children to court and testify for me. Please! You are my lawyer, after all. You have to help me!”
The lawyer took the hat without a word, knocked the dust off, and returned it to its proper form. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, “but I can’t promise anything.”
At least the man kept his word. When Lizzie was led into the courtroom in chains, Hannah was sitting, stony-faced, with the children beside her. Lizzie saw that Toby and Laura wanted to call something to her, but Hannah reprimanded them sharply. Lucius was with them, and his tense expression did not bode well.
The official removed Lizzie’s chains and pushed her onto the defendant’s bench. Shaken, she stood up before the judge, who looked like a being from another world in his dark robes and white wig.
“Name?” asked the clerk.
“Elizabeth Owens,” Lizzie answered quietly.
“Year of birth?”
“1830, I think.”
The judge furrowed his brow. “Where?”
“In London, I assume.”
“Is there anything you know for sure?” the judge asked sarcastically.
Lizzie lowered her gaze. “No.”
“Impudence will not get you far, girl.”
“I’m not being impudent. I’m just an orphan. Although I don’t know that for sure either. I don’t even know my real name. They gave me the name Owens after the man who turned me in to the police. He found me on Cavell Street, he said. I think that’s true. I think I remember it. But I’m not sure. They said I was three years old.”
“Well, you’ve remained true to the street,” remarked the judge. “Did they not try to raise you to be a better person in the orphanage?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And? Why are you here, then?”
“They only tried, sir,” Lizzie answered abjectly.
The court filled with laughter.
The judge banged his gavel indignantly. “What’s that supposed to mean, girl?
”
“I ran away, sir,” Lizzie admitted. “Because I wanted to be a good girl, but I did not want to get beaten. I was always the smallest, sir. I did not get much to eat, and now, please, sir, you must believe me. I never steal otherwise. I wanted to put it on a bill, and I only wanted a loaf of bread. Please, look at the children. It’s plain to see that they don’t get anything to eat.”
Hannah seemed to want to leap up, outraged, at this charge, but Lizzie’s attorney got the first word.
“Your Honor, the woman faced extenuating circumstances. She did not steal the bread for herself, or at least not only for herself, but for two starving children for whom she cares.”
“Who are not her own, however?” asked the judge incredulously.
“No, Your Honor, they belong to a friend, and the family is present. If it pleases the court?” The lawyer gestured to Hannah, who would no longer be restrained.
She leaped to her feet. “It’s a groundless effront’ry, Your, Mr., uh, Judge. The police says I let my children starve. I’ve got to straight away defend myself against this orphan brat who wants to tell me ’ow to raise my kids. I take good care of the little ones, and now I’m getting married, too, to get ’em a proper father.” Hannah pointed to Lucius. “And ’e’ll buy us a nice house and nice clothes. My little ones ain’t going to starve.”
Glaring at Lizzie, Hannah sat back down. Lizzie wished she could disappear. Of course Hannah could not tell the truth. Otherwise, they might take the children away.
The judge turned to Lizzie. “Do you have anything to say, Miss Elizabeth Owens?”
Lizzie said nothing. Indeed, she thought Toby’s and Laura’s emaciated faces spoke for themselves, but at least Hannah had outdone herself that day and cleaned the children’s faces. Their clothing looked new—secondhand, of course, but clean. Lucius really must have earned something, and Hannah had summoned the energy to take it from him before he could drink it away. Perhaps she would do that more often in the future. Lizzie could only wish her the best.
The rest of the trial passed in a fog: her lawyer’s meaningless words, the judge’s admonishments and recriminations, and finally the verdict. Deportation, seven years, as her attorney had predicted. As she later learned, it would not have been hard to foresee. Nearly all her fellow prisoners received the same sentence. Only the cruel fighter, who had likely almost killed someone, was sentenced to ten years.
Candy cried. She had a lover she liked and whom she did not want to leave. Velvet seemed to have grown another shade paler. Her man testified against her, which did not help him in the end. He, too, was sent to the colonies.
The prison chaplain explained to the condemned precisely what fate awaited them. “Van Diemen’s Land is a large island near Australia, an independent colony. It’s been settled a long time already, so don’t be worried about the natives—everything there is British. The women’s prison is very modern. And you’ll be going soon. The Asia, under command of Captain John Roskell, weighs anchor at the end of March. Only women will be on the ship—at least that’s the plan.”
“’Ow long does the voyage take?” asked one of the women.
“The voyage will take roughly three months. You will first be sent to a female factory. There’s sewing and laundry to do there. But some of you will also work as housemaids, or in the gardens, and some of you might marry. There are few women down there. Whoever behaves well and finds a respectable husband may be pardoned. So don’t lose courage. God knows what He’s doing. He will be with you in this strange land, and if you work at it a little, Jesus will save you. Now, let’s pray together . . . or do you still have a question, miss?”
Lizzie had shyly raised her hand. “If we do work over there, will they give us something to eat, Reverend?”
The reverend laughed. “But of course, child. The Crown doesn’t let its prisoners starve. True, the food here might not always be the best, but in the colonies . . .”
Lizzie nodded. Even in the prison in London, she was not made to starve. Yes, the food was abysmal, but there was plenty of it. She had often had less and worse in her stomach than the constant porridge here. There was supposed to be fruitful land in the colonies, and Lizzie was thoroughly willing to work it herself. Someone just needed to show her what to do. And if “being good” no longer meant starving, she was happy to try it again.
That night she fell asleep full of hope, despite the fleas and lice in the cell, and despite the tears and sobs all around her. She wanted to live a life pleasing to God, even if she did not completely understand God. Perhaps he was sending her to Australia to save her.
But then, who would save Toby and Laura?
Chapter 2
The morning of March 23, the condemned women were taken aboard the Asia. The ship was imposing, but it almost looked small beside the many-story prison hulks at the dock. It was not just the women’s prison in London that was bursting at the seams. The prisons for men were so overstuffed that they had resorted to ships docked in Woolwich. Conditions inside were supposed to be horrible. Merely the sight of them filled Lizzie with dread.
The Asia, which had already made five trips to Australia and back without a problem, seemed inviting in comparison despite how crowded it was. Alongside some hundred paying passengers, there were at least one hundred and fifty prisoners, thirty guards, and Captain John Roskell’s crew.
Lizzie was horrified when they led her down a ramp into a gigantic dark room. Separated only by wooden partitions that were necessary to secure their pallets, one hundred female prisoners were housed in the tween deck. The guards took other prisoners farther down to the ship’s hold. Finally, they also brought twelve men inside, each chained to the others.
The women listened as the some of the prison attendants argued with the captain of the ship. “Oh come on, you’re not even fully occupied. And we can’t possibly stuff more of these criminals into the prison hulks. So just take them, Captain Roskell—no need for them to show up on the manifest.”
“And their food doesn’t appear either, does it?” grumbled the captain.
“We’ll deliver their food. We just won’t note it, if you catch my meaning.” The warden laughed and made a gesture as if he were pocketing money. “Now, just say aye, Captain Roskell. What difference does another dozen scoundrels aboard make?”
The captain must have relented, because not long after that, the men were shoved down the ramp. The ship’s carpenter followed behind to set up a barricade for them.
Lizzie felt a vague sympathy. Below the waterline, where the men would stay, it was surely even gloomier than on the tween deck, where at least the women could orient themselves a little. Not that there was much to see. It was one three-tiered berth after another—no other furniture, no luggage either.
“Don’t complain. At least we don’t chain you up,” declared the guard who was supervising the loading of the women into their berths.
Lizzie, Candy, and Velvet agreed about their bunks without fighting. Candy wanted to sleep on the bottom, and Velvet volunteered for the top, just under the ceiling. That left the middle for Lizzie.
In other areas, women were arguing over their bunks. The guards had to get involved—and they did so forcefully. They immediately broke their word about putting the women in chains. Lizzie couldn’t help but notice that every pallet was equipped with them.
“Just until we set sail,” grumbled one of the guards, a soldier of the Crown like the others, “so you don’t do anything stupid.”
Lizzie smiled at him. She had accepted her fate, and she could do it again. She had smiled at the reverend and immediately received a Bible as a present. The man was delighted that she could read and, in the days before her deportation, Lizzie was moved to a roomier and cleaner four-person cell.
Her magic had worked on the doctor too. He attested to Lizzie’s malnutrition—which was the case but also applied to most of the other imprisoned women—and prescribed better food for the voyage. Now for the guard . . .
“But you don’t need to chain us up, sir. What trouble would we cause? You don’t really believe that women as little as we are could take the ship by force and free all the prisoners, do you?”
Lizzie managed to look afraid of the men belowdecks. Really, she thought the men were harmless—just desperate ne’er-do-wells like the women. Though that was far from certain. Even among the women there were a handful of serious criminals—murderers, most of them sentenced to death before having their sentences commuted to a lifetime of hard labor in the colonies. The colonies did not like to take these people in, and even the captain feared them. During the voyage, they were lodged deep in the ship’s hold, where no light and hardly any fresh air entered, and they were kept in chains. Lizzie had seen that the cruel fighter, the terror of the holding cell, had been taken belowdecks.
The guard looked almost sympathetically at the three young women. His gaze first paused on the beautiful Velvet before landing on the smiling Lizzie.
“A ship taken under such lovely force wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he said, grinning. “But it’ll cost you, my sweet. Might I pay you a visit once we’re at sea?”
Lizzie sighed in her mind but maintained her smile. So much for a life pleasing to God, she thought. She should not have even tried flirting with him. But if she rejected him now, he would become angry, and she could not afford that. She needed an ally on the ship.
“If you think it’d be fun among all the girls here,” she said softly. “I’d be a little embarrassed, myself.”
The man laughed. “Be embarrassed, will you? Are you that fine a girl? Well, I’m sure there’s a little spot where we can be alone, never fear. Now just hold still, my sweets, and don’t scream or howl when we weigh anchor. It might also get a little stormy tonight.” He stole a quick kiss from Lizzie. “Take it as a taste of sweeter storms to come,” he whispered.
She wiped her mouth as soon as he left. She was already disgusted. No doubt there would be no opportunity during the voyage to wash herself after sleeping with her new admirer.
