The following day, the cold, wet weather continued, but the last courses of slate were laid. With boards covering the window and door openings on the windward side of the building, the interior was finally protected from the rain.
After muster the next morning, David sent the roofers and their helpers for their belongings and took a list of their names to the convict compound office to get a travel authorization for them. In addition to the guard on duty and a clerk, the commandant and a civilian were in the room, poring over old convict records.
Captain Barrett, the commandant, was an outgoing man who had spoken cordially when he and David had passed each other in the compound. He nodded affably to David in contrast to the civilian's reaction.
A short, pudgy man in his thirties wearing a stylish suit, he glanced at David in contempt, then continued talking quietly with Captain Barrett as the two of them sat at a table and looked through the records.
From their conversation, David learned that the man was a lawyer from Sydney named John Fitzroy, and had been contacted by a family in England about the settlement of an estate that involved a convict who had been at Parramatta. When their discussion ranged off the subject of their search in the records, the commandant mentioned a name that immediately drew David's attention.
"I understand you've been keeping company with a young lady named Hammond," the captain said. "She's a lawyer's daughter, isn't she?"
"Yes, that's correct," John Fitzroy replied in satisfaction. "Her name is Alexandra, and her father is Nevil Hammond. The Hammonds are a very well-connected family who immigrated from London some months ago."
"So you might improve your situation by marrying the young lady and forming a partnership with her father," Captain Barrett suggested.
The lawyer lifted his eyebrows archly and shrugged. "My present situation isn't unsatisfactory, and while Mistress Hammond and I are keeping company quite regularly, a partnership with her father is another matter entirely. His clientele and mine are completely different."
"You mean he doesn't limit himself to dealing with exclusives," the captain interpreted bluntly. "Well, many of the emancipists are wealthy, and they're not as slow as some of the bunyip aristocracy in opening their purse strings for what they want. Besides that," he added with a laugh, pointing to the records, "whom are you dealing with now?''
"With a client in England," Fitzroy replied frostily.
The captain laughed cheerfully over the lawyer's chagrin, as they resumed their perusal of the records.
David outwardly controlled his reaction to the conversation, waiting for the clerk to finish writing out the travel authorization. The name that had been mentioned was more than familiar to him, because the man he had caught with his wife was Wesley Hammond. During his trial, David had heard that the Yorkshire Hammonds had relatives in London, one of them a lawyer.
The clerk finally completed the paper and handed it to David, then he left. Hearing about the Hammond family had resurrected the galling sequence of events in his mind, the cataclysm that had destroyed his life. The bitter memories were revived with renewed force, along with crushing sorrow and his twisted, agonizing love for his former wife.
David took the document to the roofers and sent them and their helpers off into the rain toward Sydney. Then he returned to the construction site where he threw himself into his work. After going through the building to see that were no problems, he dragged logs to the saw pit, smothering his memories by straining at the heavy timbers until his body ached and his mind was numb with fatigue.
The next day was Sunday, which David always dreaded because the governor had designated it as a day when all public works ceased. Sundays provided opportunities for solitude, but while David found that deeply satisfying, work to occupy his mind and to make him sleep soundly was more important to him. Spending the day at the construction site, he carried lumber and dressed out stone blocks, maintaining a grueling pace until evening.
The other convicts spent the day in various ways. Those who were craftsmen often worked in the village for wages on Sundays and at night, which was officially sanctioned, and many of the laborers pursued pleasure. The Female Factory, where women serving their sentences lived and made clothing, was in Parramatta. Despite the weather, virtually every clump of brush that David passed as he went back to his room that evening was occupied by a convict and a woman from the factory.
Female convicts of better character lived with villagers, working as maids or earning their keep by making homespuns. At the end of a street adjacent to the compound, David passed a young woman who might be one of them, or possibly a member of a village family. She smiled at him tentatively in greeting, then frowned resentfully when he ignored her.
Although his former wife had divorced him after the trial, and the memory of her was still painful, David wanted no other woman in his life. In a sense, he knew that he was guilty of judging all women by his former wife, which was unfair and illogical. She had been self-centered and fickle, and he had overlooked that partly because she had also been gay, spirited, and beautiful, bringing color to his life. But mainly he had disregarded her faults simply because he had loved her, and in a grotesquely warped and poisoned way, he still did.
The following day, David gratefully settled back into the routine of work. With the departure of the roofers, he had an excess of laborers, and they were apprehensive at the morning muster. For the most part, they wanted to stay at the site and continue working for David.
It was an opportunity to get rid of Hinton and Crowley, but David knew he would have to give up more than two men if he broached the subject with Captain Barrett. He found tasks for all of them, explaining that he would have to release several if he received an order from the commandant. By Tuesday, however, he had heard nothing about it from the officer, and he knew that the extra laborers would be allowed to stay.
On Wednesday, another miserably cold, wet winter day, Francis came to see what progress had been made on the building. Rain streaming down his oilskins, the architect shivered with cold as he dismounted his horse and greeted David, who met him outside. Francis was distraught, explaining that the governor was displeased about the construction of the church in Sydney.
"That's one of the reasons I'm here," Francis confided. "I certainly don't enjoy riding about in this weather, but his excellency has been coming to the church daily and berating me, so I came here today."
"What's wrong at the church?" David asked.
"The work is simply going more slowly than the governor wishes," Francis replied morosely. "Although he has a reputation for leniency, he can be very caustic. He actually told me that he'd never met an infantry corporal who didn't know more than I about organizing work. I'm a professional man, and I'm not accustomed to enduring such insults."
As they went inside, the architect immediately became more cheerful, looking around in surprise. "Why, the joists have been completed, as well as many of the studs for the inside partitions!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, I'll soon start some of the carpenters on the rest of the flooring and the others on finishing off the doorways."
"Finishing off the doorways? Before the inside partitions are completed? That's putting the cart before the horse."
"Partitions are usually completed before doorways, but there's no reason why they must be. From what you've said about the other construction, you aren't using joiners now, and you must have some. While they aren't doing anything else, they can make and hang the doors."
The short, heavy-set man stroked his thin beard, pondering, then acknowledged that the idea had merit. They went upstairs, where Francis looked at the construction schedule, again commenting in pleasure on the amount of work that had been done.
David explained that part of the progress was due to the extra laborers he had kept. He also told the architect that many of the younger ones were working for craftsmen as additional helpers, getting the opportunity to learn a trade so they could better themselves.
> Francis nodded absently, thinking of something else. "I try to avoid having the governor visit buildings under construction," he mused, "because his excellency is usually satisfied with what he sees only when they're completed. But this building will soon be on schedule, which is such a favorable development that I think I'll ask him to visit it."
Indifferent toward a visit by the governor, David shrugged and made a noncommittal reply. Francis continued ruminating about the idea as they went back downstairs, looking around. Soon after, the architect rode off into the rain as David returned to his work.
The following day, the wintry weather continued as sleet mixed with the rain and a frigid, gusty wind keened around the building. Near noon, while David was checking the alignment of partition supports with the carpenters, workers outside called to him. As he exited the building, an official coach was moving down the street toward the construction site.
The driver, bundled in a greatcoat and oilskins, stopped the coach beside the building and then scrambled down to open the door. Francis Greenway stepped out, followed by the governor. His manner betraying concern that Governor Macquarie would find something wrong, the architect introduced David to him.
"Ah, yes, the engineer," the governor said, touching his hat as David bowed. "Lieutenant Bethune recommended you highly, Mr. Kerrick."
"I'm very grateful that he did, Excellency, because I enjoy the work here. I trust that the lieutenant is well."
"So do I," Governor Macquarie replied wryly. "He left here only a few days ago for a regiment in India, and I already miss him sorely."
The architect anxiously escorted the governor into the building, and David followed them. Governor Macquarie stopped inside, looking around at the workers. "There seems to be many helpers with the carpenters," he mused. "Why are there more here than at other buildings under construction?"
Francis frowned in alarm, glancing around. "They'll be sent back to the convict compound immediately, Excellency."
"I didn't tell you to do that," the governor said impatiently. "I merely asked why there are more here than elsewhere."
While the architect fumbled for words, David explained, "The carpenters can work faster if they have additional helpers. Also, the extra helpers are learning a trade, which will enable them to better themselves and be of more value to the community."
"That's quite true," the governor agreed heartily. "I fully endorse the idea because it benefits everyone." He turned to Greenway. "We should look into doing this at all of the projects."
"Yes, immediately, Excellency," the architect replied absently, the governor's reaction to the building his sole concern. He pointed to a partition framework. "Ordinarily, the partitions are completely finished before the doors are made and hung. However, we have joiners at Sydney who are working as carpenters for the lack of anything else to do, so I've decided to send them here to work on the interior doors."
"Good, good," Governor Macquarie commented in approval. "That will be making the best use of your workers, which is a point I've been stressing with you. That's a very good idea." He paused, glancing from Francis to David musingly, and apparently realized the origin of the notion. "It's an uncommonly good idea, in fact," he added dryly, then pointed to a section of flooring. "What sort of wood is that?"
The architect replied as he and the governor walked through the building toward the ladder to the second floor. David accompanied them upstairs as Francis pointed out and explained details of the construction. After touring the second floor, they filed back down the ladder. Governor Macquarie looked around again and left the building.
Returning to the coach, the governor commented favorably about the progress on the building. "Occasionally," he told David, "we provide a stipend to overseers of exceptional merit. Accordingly, I'll have the commandant tell his paymaster to put you on wages of seven shillings a week. And in due time, if the work continues in the same fashion, I'll take your sentence under review. Those convicted of capital offenses can never leave the colony, but within that limitation, I can reward the deserving."
David thanked the governor, and Francis radiated with pleasure over Governor Macquarie's satisfaction with the building. Then the two men disappeared into the coach and David returned to his work as the vehicle moved away.
He was pleased about the money, a generous amount that would buy oilskins, candles for his room, and other things he wanted. But he was completely indifferent about the prospect of a ticket-of-leave or pardon, neither wanting nor needing more liberty. His only confinement was to his past, and his only escape from it was his work.
That afternoon, the rain and sleet diminished, and the wind died away as the temperature fell. By that evening, the clouds were starting to break up. Dawn the next morning brought clear skies and a bright, cold winter day. The ground began drying, and a period of more moderate weather set in, making the work easier.
Late one morning, a guard told David to bring all of his workers to the compound courtyard at noon for an assembly. Assuming it was for a public lashing of a convict, David commented to that effect, but the guard shook his head.
"No, it's for an announcement," he said. "The commandant received a message by courier this morning from Sydney, and he hasn't told anyone what it's about. He just ordered us to assemble all of the work gangs for an announcement. The villagers and farmers are also being summoned to hear it. Make certain that all of your men are there."
David replied that he would, and the guard left. In the penal colony, unusual developments were usually unpleasant ones, and David speculated about the message as he resumed working. The most likely possibility that occurred to him was that Governor Macquarie was being replaced, which would be extremely bad news for convicts. Life in Australia was a grim ordeal for some convicts even now, but under the rule of a few governors, it had been a wretched existence.
That afternoon, David led his workers to the compound courtyard. Families from nearby farms were gathering around carts and horses they had ridden, while villagers left their houses and shops to join them. Crews of convicts who had been working on roads and other projects were also present, one chain gang among them.
The weak winter sun cast thin shadows across the courtyard, and other convicts arrived as the number of village and farm families grew. The entire force of guards filed into the courtyard, then the women from the Female Factory arrived in a roar of bawdy exchanges between them and the convicts. The guards moved about, bellowing and restoring order.
A few minutes later, silence fell as Captain Barrett came into the courtyard. He stepped onto a stand and unfolded a paper. "Your attention, please," he called. "I've been ordered by the governor to assemble everyone in my area of jurisdiction and read aloud the proclamation issued by his excellency after receiving the grievously sad tidings of the death of his Royal Majesty, King George III."
The commandant began reading the proclamation, the first sentences a formal statement of sorrow and respectful condolences to the royal family. The news not what he had feared, David relaxed, and the reaction of other convicts was widely at odds with the tone of the proclamation.
"It's past time that daft old codger got his deep six," a man behind David muttered. "His face ain't been seen, and he ain't attended to affairs for years. All that time, he was cosseted in the greatest luxury one can imagine, and he could have been in an almshouse for all he knew. He didn't have enough brains to crowd a sparrow's head."
"The last one was no better," another man added. "He died on his thunder mug, it's said, from a heart seizure brought on by straining too hard. He ruled the realm, but didn't know enough to take a tonic."
Other men grumbled as the commandant read on. Then he reached the formalities of mourning that would be observed in the colony. The next Sunday, the governor would lead a procession of officials, clergy, and others who wished to participate from Government House to a church for a memorial service. Further, from Saturday until Tuesday, all businesses in the colony would close a
nd public works would cease.
The muttering around David stopped as the convicts reacted to the last part of the proclamation with poorly-concealed glee. The captain dismissed the assembly, and David returned to the building, his workers following him. They talked and laughed in happy anticipation about the upcoming free time, but David's mood was the opposite of theirs. Instead of having only a Sunday to while away, he would have three full days without work.
The following Saturday, the period of cold, clear weather still lingered as the sun shone brightly but without warmth. And at the very beginning of his long, dreaded period of idleness, David looked over the entire construction site, but was unable to find anything to do.
Some of the laborers had finally discovered that hard work made time pass quickly, and had toiled busily the previous afternoon to fill the hours until their free days began. Large amounts of lumber and stone were stacked in place for the carpenters and masons, and the bins were filled with lime and sand for mixing mortar.
Unable to think of anything else to do, David went to the edge of the village and set out down the road to the west. With everything in the colony at a standstill, the road was deserted. Bordered by open forest and small farms set back from it, the road wound up a long slope that David had heard about, a rise called Prospect Hill.
Crossing the crest of the hill, David glanced around, then he suddenly stopped. He gazed over the landscape, gripped by a sense of wonder. While traveling about on his work in England, he had seen the moors and the great fertile plain of Yorkshire, but they would be lost here. In an immense, panoramic sweep, the rolling hills unfolded ahead to the Nepean River and its wide, verdant valley was set against the backdrop of the hazy Blue Mountains that rose on the horizon miles in the distance.
Outback Station Page 5
