by Bonnie Leon
She and Lydia were put to work scouring decks aft. While she pushed the scrub brush over the filthy decking, she allowed her mind to wander back to London and the life she’d known. It hadn’t been so long ago, but it felt like forever. The memories were sweet. Had her life truly been ideal? She and her mum had been poor, but even after her father’s death her mother had always been a strong presence. Hannah had never gone hungry, and the cottage stayed warm and safe. Tears blurred her vision and she tried to blink them away. Oh how she longed for those days.
“Look!” a woman shouted. “What is it?”
Prisoners and crew crowded the railings.
“It’s only a dolphin,” one of the sailors said.
Hannah had never seen a dolphin before. She leaned over to have a good look. At first she didn’t see anything, then a fin and a glistening silver body broke the surface of the water. An elegant creature leaped from the sea, then dove eagerly, swimming just below the waves, and then leaped again and again as if unable to contain its joy.
Others chased the first. Hannah had never seen anything like it. She too wanted to leap as she watched them dance and move with speed and unrestrained freedom.
“Can I see, mum?” Lottie asked, pressing in beside Hannah.
“Of course.” Hannah and the young red-head had forged a friendship since their first encounter, but she’d not seen her recently. “I’ve missed you, luv. Where have you been?”
“Taking care of me mum,” Lottie said, her tone clipped. “With her being sick, we thought she might feel better further up front.”
Hannah lifted the youngster, shocked at how little she weighed. She could feel bones protruding beneath her ragged clothes. Lord, how will she survive?
Lottie peered at the sea. “Oh, how wonderful they are!”
“They are at that.”
“So beautiful!” Lottie leaned farther out.
Hannah tightened her grip. “Careful now. We don’t want you falling overboard.”
“If only I could ride upon them.” Lottie smiled up at Hannah, her brown eyes bright. “It would be lovely, eh?”
“Yes. Lovely.” Hannah imagined the joy of being carried over the seas with the wind and spray splashing her. She leaned out, trying to get a better look at the mystical creatures.
“I’ve never seen such a sight,” said Lottie.
She seemed happy. Yet she was one of the mislaid children who would most likely pay with her life. Stirred by compassion, Hannah hugged Lottie. Why would the government send children to prison with their parents? It was the same as throwing them away. “How old are you, dear?” she asked.
“Eight.”
She looks much younger. Perhaps because she’s so small.
Lottie turned to look at the dancing dolphins. “Me mum would have liked to have seen them dolphins.”
“Where is she?”
Lottie’s smile faded. “Dead. She died of the fever.”
Hannah felt the squeeze of sorrow in her heart. “I’m sorry.”
“Died two days ago. I got no one now.”
“You haven’t anyone at all?”
Lottie shook her head slowly back and forth.
“I’ll watch out for you, then. That is, if you don’t mind, eh?”
“Oh no. That would be fine.”
Hannah hugged her again, smoothing the child’s auburn hair. “From now on you’ll sleep beside me. We can keep each other warm.” She smiled.
“Thank ye, mum.” Lottie hugged Hannah about the waist. “I’ll move me things there straight away.”
She turned and moved toward the hatch leading to the hold. Stopping, she looked at Hannah. “I’ll be right back,” she said and then continued. The irons around her ankles slowed her steps and made a grating sound as she walked.
Such injustice, Hannah thought, angry. She turned and watched the dolphins. If only she could fly across the waves the way they did, free and oblivious about life’s harshness. She leaned against the railing, hoping for a better view. Someone bumped her from behind and Hannah lost her balance. She swung her arms back, reaching for a handhold, and tried to keep from falling. Her momentum was too great and she tumbled over the side. Reaching for anything to hang on to, she only managed to touch the rigging. The cold sea waited. And then her hands found a rope that stretched across the side of the ship. She grabbed hold. Clutching it, she slammed against the side.
There she hung, suspended over the water. “Help! Help me!” She swung her feet toward the ship, searching for a place of leverage. There was nothing. She pressed her body against the side and clung to the rope.
“She’s gone overboard!” cried Lydia. “Hannah! Hold fast,” she yelled down. “Someone help her!”
Hannah looked up. She didn’t think she could hang on much longer. “Hurry!” She flung her manacled feet toward the side of the ship, hoping to find a foothold.
“I’m not puttin’ me own life on the line to save her,” Hannah heard from above.
No one will help me. I’m going to die.
“Don’t let go! I’m coming for you,” someone shouted. A rope dropped down, and moments later a man secured by another line was beside her. He quickly made a loop in the rope he’d tossed down and then put an arm about Hannah’s waist. “I got you now.” He wedged his feet against the side. “Put up one arm, hold on with the other.”
“I . . . I can’t.”
“I won’t let you fall.”
Hannah managed to look at him. It was the man she’d noticed staring at her when she’d been on deck. The one she thought seemed kindly. She’d never spoken to him, but more than once she’d found him watching her. For reasons she didn’t understand, she trusted him. She let go with one hand and allowed herself to rest in his grasp, then she slipped her free arm through the loop, and then the other arm.
“Good girl. Hang on, now. I’ll climb up and pull you aboard.” In spite of his manacles, he managed to use his feet for leverage as he climbed up the side of the ship, hand over hand. When he’d made it back to the deck, he hollered, “You ready?”
“Yes.” Hannah tried to do just as he had and use her feet to help propel her upward as he pulled. The irons restraining her ankles made it nearly impossible. Finally the man and Lydia grabbed hold of Hannah and hauled her over the railing and onto the deck.
Hannah shook with fear and exhaustion. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She looked into the man’s soft hazel eyes, and for a moment she was held captive. Unable to think of what to say, she finally stammered, “Thank you.”
“I’m just grateful you’re out of harm’s way.”
“Your kindness will not be forgotten.” Hannah lifted the loop of rope over her head and handed it to him.
“Enough theatrics,” the captain hollered. “Back to work. All of you.”
Hannah moved away from the man.
“Name’s John Bradshaw. Yours?”
It didn’t seem proper to tell a strange man her name, but he had saved her life. “Hannah Talbot,” she said and then hurried aft.
Lydia followed. “He’s a fine bloke, that one.” When she caught up to Hannah, she asked, “Why ye in such a hurry? Ye running away from him?”
“You heard the captain. Back to work. I’m in no mood for the lash. Are you?”
Lydia smiled. “Ye like him, don’t ye?”
“Not like you mean. But of course I like him. He saved my life.” Dropping to her hands and knees, she lifted a scrub brush out of the bucket of water and returned to scouring the filthy deck. She glanced back to see if he was still where she’d left him. He was gone.
Lydia stood over Hannah, hands planted on her broad hips and a knowing smile on her lips. “Admit it, yer taken with him.”
Hannah didn’t want to talk about John. There was no use in it. He was a prisoner just as she was.
“I don’t even know him. And unless you’ve forgotten, we’re prisoners and can’t be taken with anyone. Our lives are not our own.”
&n
bsp; “Ye can tell yerself that, but it’s not true. I’ve heard tell of prisoners marrying one another. In New South Wales it’s allowed.” She looked out over the sea. “We have a future. One day we’ll have a new life. I’ll not let a judge decide my fate.”
“He already has.”
“You’re not scrubbing hard enough,” said a grubby-looking sailor with bad teeth. He kicked Hannah hard in the side. The wind went out of her and she clutched her stomach.
The sailor swung around and glared at Lydia. “And what do you think you’re doing? Get to work or you’ll taste the lash. We’ll be porting tomorrow and the captain wants the ship done proper.”
“We’re porting? Where?” Lydia asked, seemingly unconcerned over the sailor’s threat.
“Teneriffe, for the good it’ll do ye.” He walked away with a swagger.
“Did ye hear that? We’ll be porting.”
“There’s no reason to celebrate, Lydia. All it means is we’ll be locked in the hold. That way they won’t have to worry about anyone jumping ship.”
Lydia sloshed her brush into the bucket and slapped it against the deck. “I wish we could go ashore. I’m about to go mad.” She stopped scrubbing. “We’ve months left, yet.” Momentary despair touched Lydia’s green eyes. “They’ll keep us locked up for sure.”
That night Lottie snuggled close to Hannah. As the child fell asleep, Hannah caressed the little girl’s hair.
“We have to take our comforts wherever we get them,” Lydia whispered. “She’s lucky to have ye.”
Hannah thought about the child she carried inside her. Soon everyone would know. What would she do? How would Lydia feel about her? Tears burned her eyes and she tried to hold them back, but tonight she couldn’t, not tonight.
Lydia’s manacles clanked as she moved closer to Hannah. She rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “What is it?”
Hannah didn’t respond right away, but then she rolled over and faced her friend. “I’m going to have a baby,” she whispered.
Lydia said nothing for a long while, then in her sensible tone she said, “Well then, we’d best see that ye get an extra portion of bread and meat, eh?”
“The man I worked for in London forced himself on me.” The frightful night rushed back at her. “I can’t have this child. I’ll be forever shamed. And I have nothing to offer it.” She glanced at the little girl sleeping beside her. “It’s the little ones who suffer the most.”
“Children are a blessing from the Lord no matter how they come to be. It will be a hardship, yes, but to have a child—”
“No. Not like this. Not now.”
“I’ll help watch out for ye. I’ve attended births before. Ye don’t need fear all that.”
“I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of living.”
Lydia didn’t say anything right away, but when she spoke she carefully chose her words. “I know. I can see despair in ye, in all of us. But we have to believe that God wants us to live. And we must.”
“Why must we?”
“There’s a time to live and a time to die. And while we’re living, we should fight for every breath.”
“God has no use for me or my life.” Hannah bit her lip. Dare she confess the request she’d made to God? As forbearing as Lydia was, Hannah doubted even she could forgive such a thing. “I’m tired,” she finally said and rolled onto her other side.
A burning pain cut through Hannah’s abdomen and wrenched her from sleep. She breathed slowly and evenly. The pain only intensified. Her stomach muscles felt tight. She clutched her abdomen and tried to silence a groan. What is this? What is happening?
The minutes passed and Hannah found no relief. She lay on her back and sweat seeped from her pores, pooling between her shoulders and soaking her dress. Like a poker gouging at her abdomen, the pain continued to assault her. She rolled from side to side and moaned.
“What is it?” Lydia asked. “Are ye sick?”
Hannah knew it was the baby. Her prayer had been answered. How could she tell Lydia about her depraved request? Pain swept through her. “I think it’s the baby.”
“Oh, Lord. How many months are ye?”
“Only four.”
“That’s way too early. Ye can’t have the child now.”
Hannah writhed as a torturous spasm strengthened.
“Mum, ye all right?” asked Lottie, her voice laced with fear.
“She’s sick, Lottie,” Lydia said. “Ye ought to sleep somewheres else tonight.”
“Can’t I stay?”
“No. This time ye need to go.” Lydia’s voice was kind, but firm.
Lottie started to climb down, then she stopped and lay a hand on Hannah’s cheek. “Please, mum, don’t die.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Hannah rested a hand over Lottie’s.
After Lottie had gone, Hannah asked Lydia, “Do you know what to do?”
“This early? No. There’s naught can be done, except that ye try to lie quietly. Don’t fight the pain. It will only make it worse.” She grasped Hannah’s hand. “Are ye bleeding?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“All right, then.” Lydia was quiet for a moment, then in a calm voice she said, “Without light I can’t tell how bad it is. But it would be best if ye laid on yer back and tucked yer knees up a bit.”
Hannah did her best to obey in the cramped space. She closed her eyes and struggled to keep her cries of suffering to herself. Lord, I ask for your help, she prayed. But she knew there would be no comfort from him. This was her doing. She deserved to suffer.
Hannah labored several hours and finally just as daylight touched the gaps around the hatch a tiny, silent infant was born. Lydia helped bring the lifeless child into the world. She held it for a few moments. “It’s a little one, a girl.”
Hannah could hear the sadness in her friend’s voice. She couldn’t look. “Please, get rid of it.”
“How shall I do that?”
“Take it out in your skirt.”
“And what reason have I for going above decks?”
Hannah thought and then she knew the horrible solution. The words came out, hesitant and remorseful. “The . . . slop bucket.”
Lydia said nothing, but she climbed down from the bunk, and a moment later Hannah heard the lid to the bucket being lifted off and then set back in place. Lydia quietly moved across the room and climbed the steps. She knocked on the hatch.
“What need have ye?” a voice asked.
“Got to empty the bucket.”
“It’s early.”
“It reeks something fearful,” she said.
The hatch lifted and Lydia disappeared into the gray morning. When she returned a few minutes later, she said nothing as she climbed back onto her bunk.
Hannah turned onto her side and pulled her knees up to her chest. She would never forgive herself. Only a contemptible person would do what she’d done. She didn’t dare ask for God’s forgiveness. Even he couldn’t love someone like her.
11
Heavy seas pounded the convict ship, lifting it atop huge swells and then dropping it into deep troughs. Many were sick, yet Hannah was thankful for the storm. It meant she could remain on her bunk without questions.
The physical pain from the previous night’s ordeal had decreased, but the ache in her soul had intensified. Again and again, her mind carried her back to the sound of the bucket lid being closed upon an innocent child, one she’d hoped would die.
Unable to look at anyone, even Lydia, she pretended to sleep. Her friend had checked on her twice since daylight, but Hannah only mumbled that she was fine and kept her eyes closed.
Late in the morning, Lottie nudged her. “Are ye still sick, mum?”
Hannah didn’t look at her. “Uh-huh. I need to sleep. I’m sure I’ll be recovered by tomorrow.” Hannah knew another day would not heal what truly ailed her; there were not enough tomorrows to mend that.
“Is there something I can do for ye?” Lottie lay beside Han
nah, her face only inches away.
Hannah opened her eyes. She managed to smile. “No. Nothing, luv.”
“She’ll be better soon,” Lydia said, resting a hand on Lottie’s back. “She just needs a bit of time.”
The day passed and the storm grew more intense. Wind whistled through the rigging, and the ship rolled clumsily in deep swells. It would serve me well if I were drowned, Hannah thought. The idea didn’t seem so terrible.
“This looks to be a bad one,” Lydia said. “Lottie, will ye help me? There are things that will need to be tightened down.”
“Course, mum.”
Hannah pushed up on one arm. “Can I help?”
Lydia rested a hand on Hannah’s cheek. “So good to see ye taking an interest in things.” She smiled. “But best ye stay put.”
She climbed down, and grabbing handholds as she went, she and Lottie moved about the hold.
Hannah lay back down and wished for sleep. It refused to come as her mind repeatedly returned to her baby and her own hardened heart. How could any decent person wish the death of a child? What had happened to her?
This is no place for children, she told herself. I was only protecting it from torment and certain death. It is better to never be born than to exist like this. No matter how sensible the words sounded, they did nothing to alleviate Hannah’s guilt and shame.
The ship rose and then rolled as it went over a large wave. They bobbed for a few moments and then swept down the back side of the swell and into what felt to be a bottomless trough. Hannah tensed. They truly could be swamped. The ship wallowed and then was picked up again and thrown upon another wave.
Cries of fear emanated throughout the hold. There were sounds of retching, and the smell of vomit merged with the foul odors that already permeated the prison compartment. Hannah pulled her blanket up under her chin and tried to close out the misery.
Lottie and Lydia returned and climbed in on either side of Hannah. “Things are pretty much secured,” Lydia said, her eyes moving over the hold.
