Surviving Sydney Cove

by Goldie Alexander

  ‘But there is so much to do in Rose Hill,’ I cried. ‘Why don’t they help us plough the fields for the next planting? Why not help us make bricks and build proper houses?’

  Winston looked so shocked I could hardly suppress a giggle. ‘We are soldiers, not servants,’ he said indignantly. ‘Our only task is to mind you convicts, not toil in the fields.’

  It was on the tip of my tongue to retort that they have not always been too successful at this. Several convicts have run away to China. Some were lost forever. Others returned and were whipped for trying to escape. One unfortunate man met a native’s spear instead of freedom.

  Whenever Winston talks to me, his stammer grows worse. I can only think this is because he dislikes me so much. But it is best that I do not antagonise him. Best that we remain on good terms when I am a convict and he is my gaoler.

  After we had eaten and were sitting quietly looking into the fire, he said, ‘Lizzie, I find it strange that a farmer’s daughter speaks like she is gentry. Though the soft way you pronounce your A’s tells me that you are not a Londoner. Also your round face and turned-up nose are most unusual.’ When my eyes widened, he said impatiently, ‘Surely you have noticed how alike all London sparrows look? All have pale skins, pinched features and bandy legs.’

  I decided to ignore his comments on my appearance. ‘Mama insisted that we never sound like country folk. So did Doctor Nelson.’

  He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

  ‘Doctor Nelson was our parson,’ I explained. ‘He taught me how to write my letters.’ I went on to tell him how this good man had encouraged me to read the Bible. And how he owned a book called The Whole Life and Merry Exploits of Bold Robin Hood. Hard to remember that I was once that small child so enthralled by Robin Hood’s adventures.

  ‘Why, I know that book very well,’ he cried. ‘And there is another called The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe that is even more exciting.’

  ‘What is that about?’

  ‘Nothing more than one man doing the same as us. Robinson Crusoe is shipwrecked on a desert island.’

  ‘Is he always alone?’

  ‘After some years he meets a native he baptises Man Friday …’ He broke off, as if recalling that we must not get too friendly.

  I stared pensively into the fire. I have tried to harden myself against him and not to let him hurt my feelings. But given these strange surroundings, I very much wanted to know if Robinson Crusoe had managed any better than us.

  I stirred myself enough to ask why Crusoe did not die of starvation. Winston told me that in the beginning Crusoe was very hungry as he had no musket. Only he taught himself to trap animals and fish. Also, he planted vegetables and looked for plants that were safe to eat.

  ‘Which is more than we do here,’ I said tartly.

  Of course Winston thought by we, I meant him. He immediately took offence and this brought the conversation to an abrupt end.

  Sunday 25th April

  As Emily’s ankle is so much better, hardly swollen at all, I said that she might come with me to a bend in the river where the men are rarely seen.

  I had already noticed how she loves any activity. She likes nothing better than to skip, hop and jump. I must constantly remind her to stay quiet. Sometimes I think that she is more a nymph or maybe a sprite, and it will be hard to follow her papa’s instructions.

  Halfway through the morning I packed some leftover pease porridge into a wicker basket and we set off. Though the day was overcast, the sun kept trying to break through. Mindful of Emily’s complexion, I insisted that she put on her bonnet. At first she refused and I had to convince her that the sun would burn her cheeks strawberry-red.

  All the way she chattered like a starling. I soon learned that the family had travelled by coach from Cornwall. After waiting in Portsmouth, they had sailed to Botany Bay on the storeship, Golden Grove. There were no convicts on this ship, so Emily was saved from witnessing the terrible things that happened on the Lady Penrhyn.

  When I asked her how it happened that her mama went to Heaven, tears welled up in her eyes. She said, ‘Not just Mama. Also my baby brother. Now Mama and Baby are together.’

  I mopped her tears with my petticoat. ‘But you still have your papa and Winston. I left my brother Edward in England when he was the same age as you are now. These days I have only Sarah to care for me.’

  ‘Lizzie, I care for you,’ she stoutly insisted. ‘You are my very best friend, except for Papa and Winston. Who is Sarah?’

  ‘Sarah is my friend and protector. You will meet her very soon.’

  She looked at me with eyes pale as new milk. ‘Will Sarah like me?’

  I assured her that Sarah would love her, but only if she worked hard at learning her letters and always stayed quiet. All this time, we had been walking along a bushy track flanked by trees with stringy bark like an old man’s skin. Further along were curious low black stumps sprouting greenish-grey fronds like horsetails.

  When we came to my favourite spot along the river, I seated myself on a fallen log, and pulled her down beside me. We dangled our toes in the water. The air was filled with the bittersweet scent of decaying bark. Trees met their reflection in brownish water and dragonflies skimmed across the surface. It was so peaceful, for a moment I almost forgot to pine for home.

  Suddenly a fearful crashing broke out. Heart hammering in my ears, I sprang to my feet and wrapped my arms around Emily. It sounded as if a herd of stampeding horses, or maybe wild boars, was heading our way. An angry boar can be more dangerous than even a dragon. We shivered and clung to each other. Wherever I looked, shadowy groves hid one-eyed monsters that I knew were only waiting to spring out at us.

  Then Emily pointed to the other side of the river. Crashing about in the undergrowth were two kungaroos. These animals were using their short front paws to box each other.

  Safe on the opposite bank, we asked them why they were fighting. The kungaroos took no notice of us whatsoever. In a few minutes they—and any monsters that might be around—vanished into the forest.

  We settled back to our puddings. Just as I was brushing crumbs off Emily’s pinafore, I felt someone come up from behind. I swivelled around to see the native girl I had seen before. She was carrying a baby and this time she was alone. As we stood facing each other, she reached towards Emily. I saw her finger touch Emily’s pale arm and I marvelled at the contrast.

  I think that the native girl had never seen such white skin. She said something that sounded like ‘Iora, iora,’ and pointed to herself.

  I assured her that we would very much like to be her friend. If she did not understand my words, she felt my tone, and she held out her baby for us to admire. As he was entirely naked I could see that he was fat and healthy. He would have been most appealing except for his snotty nose.

  I went to wipe it away. The girl took fright. Next minute she and the baby had melted back into the bush.

  Emily was deeply disappointed. She cried, ‘Why did she go? I so much wanted to play with her baby.’

  Tuesday 27th April

  This morning it was too windy and dust-blown to hang the washing over the bushes. Perhaps this is a good thing because we are almost out of soap. The food situation is worse. We are given only a handful of rice and a tiny piece of salt pork a day—hardly enough for each person to manage two mouthfuls.

  It seemed as good a time as any to take Emily to visit Sarah. But first I had to ask her papa for permission. He chewed his lip as he considered my request. Then he said, ‘Lizzie, I am well pleased with you. You are proving yourself a fine servant.’

  I felt my face redden. Praise from this new Master is praise indeed.

  He said, ‘Is not your friend Sarah Burke housekeeper to Master Dodd?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Then certainly you may visit her. But, you must never let Emily out of your sight. Not even for a second. And you must make sure that she never gets tired.’

  ‘If she walks, I
will see that she does so very slowly,’ I promised. ‘And when she tires, I will piggyback her.’

  Emily and I set off shortly after. I worried about walking the track between the men’s and women’s huts. To my relief, hardly anyone was about, as their language would make a grown man blush.

  Emily wanted to know what games I played when I was little. So I told her about raiding blackbird and finch nests, and how I liked to hold the eggs in my hand. She listened very intently. ‘What colour were they?’

  ‘Pale blue. Sometimes speckled white.’

  ‘Did not the birds mind you taking their eggs?’

  ‘Perchance they did. Sometimes the bird was nesting. I remember how they would look up at me in fright.’

  She wanted to know what else we did. So I told her spinning tops, tag, & chasing each other around the meadow & the same knucklebones she played with Winston, and sometimes hoops.

  By now we had reached Master Dodd’s kitchen. Sarah came out at the sound of our voices and nodded at me as if I had been gone less than an hour. I introduced Emily, who bobbed a curtsey. Sarah smiled and I could see that she thought Emily as sweet and pretty as I do.

  We stayed half the day. When Emily was not listening, I managed to tell Sarah about the child’s frail condition. ‘Why, the poor little thing,’ Sarah cried. ‘We must build up her strength.’

  She boiled wild spinach and two potatoes each for our dinners. Before we started I was mindful to loudly thank God for this tasty meal. (Emily’s papa has urged me to pray before each meal, but I wonder, can He be listening?) Then we savoured those vegetables as if they were the most splendid banquet set before King George.

  Before we left, Sarah mentioned that the cow was in calf and giving a little milk. She poured some into a tin cup and told Emily to drink it up, as it would stop her getting weak bones and bandy legs.

  Emily’s pale gaze turned to me. She said, ‘Lizzie’s legs are straight.’ So I told her that was because our mama owned a milk-cow called Daisy who gave us plentiful butter and cream.

  Also Sarah slipped the end of a cabbage into my basket. Plus three eggs that she insisted was my ration.

  I think that she was giving me her share and I protested very loudly. But she insisted that I take them and told me not to be so foolish.

  I hugged her and told her how much I miss her. She is my true friend and I am lucky to have her, even if her breath grows worse by the day.

  Wednesday 28th April

  The nights are getting cooler. At dusk the cicadas no longer make such a racket. Thankfully, we have fewer mosquitoes. Instead, ticks plague us. Yesterday I had to cut one out of my leg. The wound bled and bled. Now both Emily and I wear bandages. Also, my new Master tells me to watch out for the leeches that breed by the river. He tells me that he uses these creatures to drain blood from sick people. But he also says that leeches are not good for healthy people, and must be burnt off with a candle.

  Last night Winston was granted an unexpected night’s leave. After supper, the four of us sat before the fire. I sat closest for I needed the light for patching and darning. This family’s linen is so neglected, I am grateful to Mama for having shown me how to sew.

  Surgeon Russell is kind, if a little absentminded. I like to pretend that he is my new papa, and that I am Winston and Emily’s sister. Though Winston shows his wariness towards a convict girl, the Surgeon treats me almost like one of his family. But no matter how gentle he is, sooner or later someone will say something to remind me that I have fewer rights than a chicken or a cow.

  My Master has received a letter from a Lieutenant Maxwell stationed on South Head. He told us that Maxwell writes that those at the Lookout are able to grow vegetables and catch a few fish. But the folk left in Sydney Cove are dangerously short of food, and he wonders what will become of them.

  As he spoke, Winston looked more and more upset. When he could longer contain himself he cried, ‘Too much misery and selfishness! Folk are even mean about lending their cooking pots. I heard of an elderly convict who died while waiting for a kettle to cook his food. When they opened him up, they saw his stomach was empty.’

  ‘Things will improve very shortly,’ his father said sharply. ‘The council appointed by Governor Phillip has ordered the storeship Supply to sail to Batavia.’

  ‘How much food can a one hundred and seventy ton ship carry? She is far too small.’

  ‘You are right,’ said his father. ‘But the captain has been told to hire another storeship. However, it is a six month voyage. In that time we must pray for a miracle.’

  ‘Miracles!’ Winston cried contemptuously. ‘Miracles only happen in the Bible and I wonder if even they can be true.’

  My eyes widened in alarm. Though I also wonder about the Bible, I would never confess this aloud. Sure as day turns into night, I would be punished. I waited for Winston’s papa to give him a scolding. Instead the Surgeon merely smiled and puffed a little harder on his pipe.

  A little later Winston asked his papa what else Lieutenant Maxwell reported.

  The Surgeon emptied his pipe into the hearth. ‘Why, that he scans the horizon at sunrise and sunset in the hope of glimpsing a sail. He writes that sometimes he has been deceived by low-lying cloud into thinking it might be a vessel.’

  ‘What will happen if they do not come soon?’

  My Master stretched long legs towards the fire. ‘Many folk may not survive. It is hard to collect food when we have so little shot and only two fishing boats.’

  Winston sprang to his feet to prowl around the hut. ‘What if the Second Fleet never arrives? What if the ships have foundered in a storm like the Sirius? Or they have lost their way?’

  At this, such a gloom spread over us, I was almost sorry that I am still alive. Surely it would be easier and quicker to drown at sea than to slowly die of starvation.

  But Winston’s moods are so changeable. Suddenly he had had enough of all our misery and he turned to me to cry, ‘Come now, Lizzie.’ He threw another stick into the hearth. ‘You must tell us how you came to be transported.’

  While he waited for my answer, a wind blew up outside. A branch tapped against the other side of the wall. We shivered and drew closer to the hearth. This southern land is so dark and forbidding. Though no-one says this aloud, we secretly wonder what monsters and cannibals can be out there. What if they are merely biding their time to attack?

  Winston repeated his request. I replied that my life story was not so interesting. But the Surgeon insisted that I should stop being bashful.

  So I put down my sewing and began. Edward, we shared our early years, so I will not bother to write down all I told them. But now they know how Papa had leased his land from Sir George Grainger. How Mama had been dressmaker to his wife, Lady Jane, and how that good lady had sent me to Doctor Nelson to learn my letters. Only when I came to the time our parents were sick from the Influenza and then died, did my voice falter.

  Emily was awake and drinking in every word. ‘Poor you,’ she cried. ‘I know what that is like. My mama went to Heaven too.’

  We hugged and consoled each other. The Surgeon patted my shoulder when I started to cry. Only Winston seemed unmoved. He wanted to know what had happened to me then.

  I told him how you, Edward, were only six, and too young to send away. And how my mama’s younger sister Flossie took you in as one of her own. But I was already nine, old enough to start work. Because Mama had shown me how to sew, it was decided to apprentice me to a milliner in London. That was when my troubles began.

  I would have told them more, only my Master said that it was very late, and that I should finish my story another time.

  We laid our pallets on the floor and settled onto them. But so many memories kept running through my head, it took me ages to fall asleep.

  Thursday 29th April

  Once more to the river to gather wild spinach. On our way an animal the size of a roasting pig with a pointy snout and spines like a porcupine waddled across our pat
h. Emily wanted to know its name. I had to confess that I had never seen one before.

  When we came to our favourite bend by the river, we found enough spinach to fill my basket. Then we settled onto our log to dangle our feet in the water. I was hoping that the native girl might return. Sure enough, I heard a light crackle behind me and there she was.

  This time she approached us more openly. She carried her sleeping baby on her back in a woven basket. Holding out some roasted meat, she showed that it was safe by chewing a piece herself. From another grass basket, this one around her waist, she took out another morsel. I found it delicious—something between chicken and fish. I urged Emily to try some as I thought it could do us no harm. Emily did, and though at first she found the flavour strange, we were so hungry, the meat disappeared very quickly.

  All this time, the girl was smiling and watching our every move. Though her skin was covered in oil and smelt like stale fish, I had never seen anyone with such splendid dark eyes or even white teeth.

  When all the meat had gone, she searched in her basket and handed us two small cakes. They tasted something like bread, but very coarse. Because some of my teeth are broken and decayed, I had to chew very carefully. Finally, she offered us two sticks covered in honey and showed us how to suck on them. They were delicious. The best thing we have eaten in a very long time.

  Now the baby gave a little cry. She removed him from his basket and he blinked and smiled as if he knew we wanted to play. Emily held out her arms. His mother handed him over, and I helped Emily hold him while we tickled his hands and toes and made him laugh.

  Certainly he was the happiest baby I have seen since leaving Cranham.

  Suddenly an older man, also an Indian, stepped out of the bushes. He carried several spears and what I think must be other weapons. His beard and hair were thick with dust and grime, his skin covered in oil and he also smelt most foul.

  I handed the baby back to his mother and flung my arms around Emily. What if this man ate children? I knew that Indians had speared several convicts. Some had even died from their wounds.