by Renard, Loki
My fantasies were soon crushed under the heel of hard reality. I was taking what passed for exercise on the deck one afternoon, sitting on a strapped down pile of barrels, when there was a cheer from the crow’s nest above. It was a sound that made Morrow lift his spyglass to his eye and I saw him mimic the cheer. I did not need to be told what the jubilation that spread quickly through the sailors and guards meant. Land had been sighted and our journey was almost over.
On the following day Morrow had all prisoners assembled on deck. He spoke to us quite cheerfully as he explained what would happen when we ran out of ocean and bumped up against land once more. “We will soon be making dock at Botany Bay where you will disembark and begin your sentences,” he said, looking at us all with an approving eye. For reasons beyond my comprehension, many of our number seemed to share his excitement.
“There are two stages to the matter,” Morrow explained to his eager audience. “When we arrive there will be free men at the docks waiting to choose servants and perhaps wives. Those of you not chosen will be taken to the Parramatta female factory where you will work until such time as you serve your sentence or find a match. Becoming a wife and mother will free you from the bonds of servitude, so consider any offers you receive in that light.”
I scowled. Neither of those options appealed to me, either being taken into a strange man’s home or sent to what amounted to little more than a workhouse. So much for freedom, we were to be sold into servitude, pressed into marriage and forced into work. For a brief, terrible moment I almost thought Lizzy lucky to have perished during the voyage. But I knew she would have survived in this new world. She would have thrived in fact, being no stranger to strange men.
When there was a moment’s peace I made my way to the spot on the railing where Lizzy had been deposited into the ocean. It was the last place I had seen her, though she had not been herself at the time, just a swaddled body bereft of life. I wanted so badly to spend just one more minute with her, to feel as I had felt when she was alive.
“Jane.”
Suddenly, between the little peaking waves, I saw her face in the water. I saw her floating there as clear as day, intact and beautiful, as if she had become a mermaid or some such creature. I blinked thrice and rubbed my eyes, but when I opened them again, she was still there. “Lizzy?”
“Come down Jane,” she beckoned to me. “It’s pretty down here.”
“I cannot live under water Lizzy.” I shouted down to her, hoping she could hear me over the rush and swell of the water.
“It only hurts for a moment, Jane.” Her thin voice swept across the ocean. “Then you’ll have peace with me and my babes.”
“Babes?” I asked the question and then saw that she was ringed with smiling cherubic figures swimming all about her, their scales flashing brightly in the sun as they leaped and splashed about. I smiled to see them, such pretty babies Lizzy had borne under the sea.
“Come down, Jane! It is so nice down here!” She cried out to me. “Slip over the railing, ’t will hurt for only a minute.”
Only a minute… a minute of pain to release me from a lifetime of suffering. Only a minute to save me from servitude or tedious work or worse still, being compelled to give my virtue to the highest bidder. I leaned over the railing, reaching my arms out to Lizzy as she reached hers out to me.
“Take my hand, Jane!” She cried out to me, her hair floating about her face in a beautiful fan. “Take my hand and join me!”
I reached out still further to touch her fingers as they rose from the water. “Touch me Lizzy, take me with you!” I was happy to surrender myself to the water, happy to join Lizzy. Lizzy had always known how to live best. In her company I would never be sad or lonely. We could swim the seas for eternity, never touching land or being tyrannized by man. I fancied I could almost touch her, almost feel her fingers on mine. Almost…
“Jane!” Roake’s arms reached around my waist and hauled me forcibly back onto the deck. I hated him for it, I hated how powerful he was, what light work he made of destroying my chance to be reborn with Lizzy as a water baby.
“No!” I screamed, flailing furiously in his arms. “Lizzy, I want to see Lizzy!”
“Are you mad?” He took my face none too gently and made me look toward him, but the moment his fingers clamped on my cheeks his anger drained away. “You are burning up!”
“Lizzy,” I cried weakly. “She is waiting for me in the water.”
“Mad with grief,” somebody said.
“She is running a fever.” I heard Roake say the words as he pressed his hand to my brow, but I did not pay much mind. Lizzy was standing on the deck now, blue and cold and dripping everywhere. She did not look so well out of the ocean, there were deep dark rings under her eyes and her hair was knotted all about her face. She looked at me hollowly, her mouth open in a silent cry that echoed my own.
“Lizzy!” I cried her name out again and reached for her, but Roake gathered me up in his arms and carried me away to the depths of his cabin. That panicked me more than anything and I began shrieking. “Lizzy he is going to hit me! Save me Lizzy, save me!” But Lizzy did not save me. She stood on deck as sailors walked all around her without so much as acknowledging her. It was very rude of them and I chastised them for it in no uncertain terms as Roake carried me into the depths of his cabin, shutting the world out with the closing of his door.
“My poor Jane,” Roake’s deep rumble went right through my body as he laid me down on the bed, shaking and jumbling things about inside me. I couldn’t quite feel my body, everything was warm and liquid and the motion of the ship made me feel as if I was falling apart, drifting away and becoming one with the water and the wind. I did not know how long I stayed in that state, but it seemed to be an awfully long time. Roake spoke to me in the mornings and then again in the evenings but I usually did not understand what he was saying. He didn’t speak the language of the sea like Lizzy and I did.
She visited me often, sometimes as a water sprite, other times looking as solid and hearty as she had when she was alive. We had long conversations, Lizzy and I, about many things. She told me of her life below the waves and I told her of the horrors awaiting me on Australian shores.
At some point, I knew not when, my fever broke and Lizzy went away. I became aware of my surroundings again, of Roake’s bed, his cabin and his face peering down at me with concern. I did not need him to tell me that Lizzy’s visits had been hallucinations, nor that we were close to port. I could feel that the ship had settled in her movements, she was sailing smoothly towards the bowels of the earth and taking us all with her.
“I am not going to Australia.” I made the declaration with all the passion my weakened body could muster. My voice croaked and was dry, for I had barely supped a thing since the illness had taken hold of me.
“Oh Jane.” Roake mopped my brow. “Please do not make this so difficult. You have made yourself ill with worry.”
“I doubt that is how the body works,” I said, trying to sit up in bed. I had been quarantined in Roake’s cabin, which was a clear sign that my illness was not regarded as being purely emotional.
He handed me some broth, which I drank quite gratefully. I was ravenous and with something in my stomach I felt much better. My time with Lizzy had convinced me of the need to fight for my freedom I would not go quietly down to the docks and be chosen by a man, or forced to work until such time as whatever authority taking charge of me might see fit to release me.
“I implore you, Jane,” Roake said. “Resign yourself to your fate and take it with grace.”
His advice was ridiculous in the extreme. I was not given to resigning myself to my fate and well he should have known it. Perhaps he was as desperate as I was. I did not know what feelings, if any he had regarding the events that would soon overtake us both.
“What do you care,” I said, laying my bowl aside. “You will be well on your way back to Merry Olde England soon and you will never think of me again.”
“I will always think of you, Jane,” Wilde said, sitting at my bedside.
“Well thoughts are free and floating like the clouds,” I said. “You heard what Morrow said. You know what is to become of me. I will be forced into marriage or my virtue will be taken in payment.”
Roake looked furious. “Miss Wilde, that is not necessarily true…”
“But you know it is a possibility. You know why we were sent here. Not for any real crime but to use our loins in the service of the king.” I became impassioned. “I will not allow that, Master Roake. I will sell my life before I allow my virtue to be taken.” The master of discipline grew grim, but I was not finished speaking my mind. “You should have let me fall from the railing. You should have let me join Lizzy. Better to die pure than to be ravaged by some filthy convict man made free to take a wife from among our number.”
“Enough, Miss Wilde!” Roake thundered the words. He did not want to hear what I had to say. He did not want to think of what would become of me. He wanted to imagine that he had done his duty well and that the future would take care of itself. I recoiled in the face of his anger, afraid that he would turn his ire on me. He had blamed me for events out of my control in the past and no doubt it would be easier for him to blame me for what was done to convict women than to admit that for all his chivalrous intentions and honorable words he was delivering me directly into the lion’s den.
Chapter Twelve
As I beheld the stubborn expression Roake’s dark eyes I felt that all was lost. It was plain to see that he could barely think about what would happen to me when we made land, let alone discuss it. I was desperate however, and a desperate woman will say that which is not wise and do that which is never done. I made one last plea to the man who had become more than the master of discipline to me, who had shown me rare and increasing kindness in the course of our association.
“Hide me here,” I implored Roake, clutching at his sleeve. “If you have any affection for me at all, let me stay here, under your bed or perhaps in the closet until such time as the Valiant makes for England once more. Please do not abandon me to those convict shores.”
He drew himself into the safety of his role. I saw it happen before my eyes, his personality was moved away some place beyond my reach and in its place came the man of duty. “Miss Wilde, you do not know what you are asking me to do.”
“I am asking you to save me.”
“No, you are asking me to betray my king and country.” He drew his arm out from my grasp, stood up and looked down at me with a cruel curl of his lip. “You have been sentenced to be transported and you will be transported, Miss Wilde.”
It was all I could do not to give way to tears. I did not want to indulge myself in displays of emotion; no doubt Master Roake would think I was trying to sway him. I lowered my eyes to my now empty hands and almost whispered my response so that my voice would not tremor unduly. “I understand.”
Silence stretched between us, a silence in which our very different stations became wildly apparent. For all my breeding and charm I remained a convict and he remained a transporter of convicts. I could not fault him overly much, he had told me at the outset he would see me to Australian shores and he was doing just that.
“Stay where you are,” he said stiffly, keeping himself at a distance and turning his face so he did not have to look at my pathetic figure. “I will fetch the medical officer. He wished to see you when the fever broke.”
He left and I was alone. In that moment I did not need the specter of a dead friend to tell me that time was running out if I wanted to avoid setting foot on Australian shores. Urgency propelled me out of the bed that smelled like Roake and made me tiptoe across the floor to the door, which I opened just a hair.
There was a great crowd outside; everybody appeared to be gathered on deck, looking out at the grand new world that awaited them. The time was perfect. I would not have another opportunity like this, to move unseen amidst the others.
Nobody noticed as I slipped from Roake’s cabin and made my way down to the very bowels of the ship. The same place I had abhorred and avoided for most of the voyage now provided me shelter for there were many supplies and stores still lashed in place in the lower decks, perfect hiding places for a small and determined figure.
I secreted myself in the very back of all the crates and barrels, where I had room to breathe but was quite hidden from the eyes of the sailors who regularly came down for provisions. I determined that I would stay there, tucked away until the Valiant made for England once more. If I waited long enough I was sure they would turn about and I would be returned to the green shores I missed with all my heart.
It was certain that it would not be long before I was missed. I could imagine what would happen when Roake opened the door to his cabin and discovered it empty. His jaw would tighten and his eyes would flash and he would commence the search immediately. Unfortunately for Roake, I doubted anyone would be terribly interested in my disappearance. Sure enough I soon heard heavy boots tramping about the ship and I heard my name shouted once or twice, muffled by the heavy timbers but the sounds faded quickly.
The search did not seem to be overly exhaustive and given that the last time anybody laid eyes on me I was talking to a dead woman and trying to throw myself into the ocean it was reasonable that they would come to the conclusion that I had managed to finally end my misery. It was the conclusion I had hoped they would draw, for my hiding place was effective but not precisely unfathomable.
I had timed my escape attempt perfectly however, even if a greater search had been ordered it would not have been possible. We were so very close to land and all hands were needed to bring the ship in and make the remaining prisoners ready to disembark. I was sure that I was the last matter on anyone’s mind. Morrow would be about to collect his purse, the women were about to start their new lives with the men they could no doubt see waiting on the docks. As for Roake, I liked to flatter myself and think that Roake would feel some slight sting at my loss. I hoped his pain would not be too great and I doubted that it would be, for he had shown great resolution in our last discussion.
Over the following hours the Valiant went into harbor smoothly. When the ship became still it was a queer feeling, we had been in motion for so long that it was incredibly odd to remain in one place for any significant length of time. I imagined the events taking place above me as the passengers tramped from the vessel. Many of the women would be wifed already with child; virtue had not been nearly as tightly controlled as it could have been. Not that it mattered; virtue was not going to matter where they were going. It would be simply another commodity to be traded; indeed it was the only commodity any of us truly had to trade.
I was quite exhausted there in my hiding place, still sick from the fever that had overtaken me. Fatigue, both physical and mental, was my greatest foe and though I battled it I found myself drifting off to sleep as the ship rocked ever so gently in dock.
When I awoke I did not know how long I had been asleep, but loud and disturbing noises forced me into consciousness. In my haste to find a spot to hide I had not considered that there might perhaps be a reason for the excess crates and barrels stashed in the ship’s belly. It seemed that the women were not the only cargo being carried to Australia and as I was jolted out of sleep by scraping and cursing as sailors began to remove supplies from the ship I realized was too late for me to find another hiding place. I was trapped like a rat against a bulkhead. I crouched down and covered my head, hoping to be mistaken for a bundle of rags in the low light, but fortune must have disembarked with the other ladies, for my luck had run out.
“Wot do we ‘ave ‘ere?” A rough voice grated my undoing. In short order I was dragged from my hiding place and taken up to the deck where I fancied one last punishment would await me before I was cast out into the new land. But when we reached upper decks neither Roake nor Morrow were in evidence. As I looked down onto the dock I saw that it was all but bare. The ch
oosing was done, the available assignments had all been handed out it and I was a straggling waif with no prospects at all.
I was handled roughly down the gangway. Had I been in more robust health I would have fought back, but I was weak and hungry and still quite feverish and so I allowed myself to be carried like a sack of potatoes and tossed into the back of a wagon with no ceremony at all.
“Get ‘er to the female factory,” the sailor said to the wagon driver. “She looks ‘alf dead.”
I was taken through an alien land. A land where the heat was intense and wet and the vegetation looked nothing like the lush greenery of England. I felt as if I were no longer on the same planet, as if the very earth had forsaken me. Tall spindly trees rose high into the sky, looking somehow sparse though they were in full greenery. The sky was a brilliant blue, the light bright in a way it almost never was in England. This place seemed to be almost closer to the sun and stars than my homeland. It was quite fascinating and perhaps it was only the remnants of fever that made everything seem strange and magical but I found myself feeling as if I might be able like this place where the air was scented with the perfume of strange new plants if only I could be free to explore it in my own time and in my own way.
We passed through some settled areas and I saw the efforts of the colony to make this land at the end of the world a little like Britain. People on the streets wore the same clothing I was accustomed to seeing in England and the architecture was likewise very similar. It was not quite right however, it was odd and out of place, as if some great hand had reached into England and plucked out a few buildings and people and simply dropped them onto the landscape. It was almost as if Englishness itself were some spreading malady afflicting the otherwise wild and free lands.
