Far From Botany Bay

by Rosa Jordan

  So Johnny knew, as well as Colleen. Mary had surmised as much, and worried afresh. But what she heard in the settlement next day brought a surge of fear, and certain dread that they would never make it out of Botany Bay. It was from Dr. White that she got the news.

  “Mary!” he called sharply as she passed by his surgery. She moved toward the door with the children, but he pushed Charlotte back outside and bade her wait for her mother there. Once the door was shut he wasted no time telling Mary what mischief was afoot. In a low voice, he said, “It is known that Will’s crew is planning to bolt.”

  So, Mary thought, Colleen has informed already. But why had the authorities not come to search their hut and seize the provisions secreted there?

  Mary tried to affect a laugh. “Will Bryant bolt? And leave behind his wife and children? Why, his sentence is practically up!”

  “It’s not known if Will is in on it,” White admitted. “Matey was heard bragging about it to some others. Fool that he is, he implied he was the ringleader. But when the authorities searched his hut they found nothing. He whined and said it was only liquor talking; that every convict in the colony harbours such a fantasy, with no means or intention of realising it.”

  “So what has that to do with us?” Mary asked, feigning annoyance to cover her fright. “I grant you my husband spends more time drinking with that scum than—.”

  “That is precisely what it has to do with you,” White snapped. “No one in authority is fool enough to believe that any besides Bryant is smart enough to organise this thing. So the lot of them are being watched. None more closely than your husband.”

  Mary tried but failed to smile. All that came out was a shaky, “Thank you, Dr. White. I shall see to it that, come nightfall, my husband is at home, with nothing more incriminating in his arms than this child I hold, or that one playing out in the yard.”

  Mary had known from the start that secrecy was the key to success, and had likewise known that with so many in on the plan, secrecy was nearly impossible. Now there was Colleen shouting in her face, Johnny speaking of it in the shop, Matey bragging about it to other convicts, and even the authorities alerted that something was afoot. Who in the colony didn’t know?

  A short time later, Mary stood in line with the others and collected the day’s ration of food from James. He must have noticed her paleness, for he took a second look at her face, and his own showed concern. Of course they could not speak, not till tomorrow morning when she and he went for water. By that time they might already have been seized. As things stood, the only flicker of comfort she could take in the situation was that no one, not even Will, knew she had actually invited James, and that he had agreed to join them.

  In that desolate state of mind, Mary stumbled in the direction of home, following Charlotte, who ran ahead on their usual path. Up ahead, Mary saw Colleen seated on a bench in her tiny garden. Florie was approaching along the path from the opposite direction.

  Florie waved at Mary, and turned into the garden.

  “Hey, Colleen,” she spoke in a wheedling tone. “Might you have a nip of rum about?”

  Colleen, the one who was always laughing, singing, and inviting neighbours to come sit a spell, now leaned back against the wall of her hut, great belly protruding, and snapped, “What do you need more for, when you’re so sotted you never know half of what’s going on?”

  Florie ignored the insult and seated herself on the bench on the opposite side of the doorway. “I know my Coxie’s leaving,” she said sadly. “Are you going to see he’s brought back and hanged?”

  “They’ve got no right to take Cox and leave Johnny behind!” Colleen barked.

  “Johnny’s not the man he used to be, Colleen. But he’s man enough to stand by you. That’s more than I can say for Coxie.”

  Colleen tossed her head. “I don’t want Johnny standing by! I want him on that boat and myself as well, or the lot of them can hang!” She glanced in Mary’s direction, letting her know she had seen her coming, and meant for her to hear.

  Mary walked steadily toward her, for in her mind, they were as good as caught already. It was what Florie said next that caused her eyes to widen in amazement.

  “Sad it is to think of what a child is going to suffer in this colony, with all knowing his dear old mum curried favour with the authorities by informing on her friends.”

  Colleen gasped. “Who would tell such a thing?”

  Florie turned her thin hands palms up in a gesture of helplessness. “Why, Colleen, you say yourself how my tongue wags at both ends when I drink.”

  “Florie, you are a pig!” Colleen shouted.

  “So Coxie says. But he hardly ever hits me,” Florie said complacently. Then she called out to Cass, who was striding toward them, “Hey Cass, come sit a spell.”

  “What, Johnny’s got two women doing for him, and needs a third?” Cass jibed in her rough mannish voice.

  “No, it’s Colleen,” Florie drawled. “She’s looking for a way to lose her baby, and die in childbed, and see Johnny hanged for bolting.”

  Cass leered into Colleen’s face. “Smells like murder to me,” she cackled. “A nice game murder is, for them that’s not afraid to burn in Hell.”

  “Witch!” Colleen muttered, but said no more, for just then Charlotte dashed into the yard. The child clambered onto the bench next to Colleen, caught her face in her hands, and turned it to her own for a kiss.

  Mary had not thought of what she would say to Colleen. All that came to mind as she stood before the hugely pregnant Irish woman, was, “I do what I must, Colleen. And so must you.”

  “I shall,” Colleen said coldly. “Now take you off to talk to Cass and Florie, and give me some time with my little Charlotte, whose life means more to me than yours.”

  Mary moved to the other side of the yard and sat down with Cass and Florie. She had no notion what Colleen might do and, at this point, felt that it hardly mattered. By the others’ worried looks, she could tell that they thought the plan doomed to failure as well.

  “You’ll not catch me out on that wretched ocean again,” Cass stated flatly. “I’d not endure another crossing if they gave me free passage back to England.”

  “Free passage indeed!” Florie scoffed. “The only thing that comes free in this miserable place is misery itself.”

  Cass nodded, and muttered under her breath to Florie and Mary, “She’ll feel a lot better, our Colleen will, once the brat pops out. If she hasn’t gone and killed her friends by then.”

  The three sat quietly then, listening to Colleen’s clear alto voice raised in song. The lyrics spoke of the one thing they, who had lost so much, still had left to lose, that being hope itself.

  As Will was about to leave for work next morning, Mary said, “If the Waaksamheyd sails out of the harbour today, as I expect it will, come directly home when your work is done. Tell the others to come here as soon as it is black dark, bringing with them such provisions as they can muster.”

  “Tonight?” Will asked with some surprise. “I thought we’d linger a few days, till the Dutch ship is far gone.”

  “We have no time to linger,” Mary said shortly.

  When Will had gone off down the path to the harbour, Mary took her water pails and went to the stream. On the return she paused to wait in the usual place, on the rise that gave a view out over the harbour. When she saw that the Waaksamheyd had already weighed anchor and was moving toward the narrow neck of the bay, Mary had trouble holding back her tears. Smit was not a man she had loved, but he had been more than a friend. He had offered her two chances at freedom; one on his terms and one on hers. The first was lost forever. Whether she could grasp the second would be known by tomorrow’s dawn.

  “Mary?” James’s hand curved lightly around her waist. “Are you alright?”

  She turned to him. The
re were still tears in her eyes, which she did not try to explain. All she said was, “Will and his crew are being closely watched. The risk is greater now than when I spoke to you before. You’ve no need to throw in your lot with us, for I have revealed to no one that you consented to come. Draw back now and none will be the wiser.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Tell me I’m not welcome and I shan’t come.”

  “That would be a lie. What I do not welcome is the thought of your death on my conscience, along with all the others, if we are caught.”

  He gave a slight squeeze, so that she noticed for the first time the intimate place his hand rested. “I am man enough to be responsible for what I do. Come Hell or high water—and I expect we’ll face some of both—my decision to go with you is altogether my own.”

  “At dark, then,” she said, and picked up her pails of water. “With what provisions you can lay hands on.”

  He might have kissed her then; she would not have resisted. But he must have sensed the absence of desire, for he did not, and she was grateful. She could not have explained that the absence of passion had nothing to do with him. It was that these past days of ever-rising fear, the quarrel with Colleen, and the departure of Smit, taking with him the freedom that she now doubted she could win by her own design—these things had simply drained her.

  The daylight hours were fraught with tension, as Mary went about her usual chores in a show of normalcy. Much of the time was spent in her garden where she harvested every edible thing, scrubbed soil off potatoes and turnips, and laid in what stores she could. Will returned at nightfall, and they ate in silence. Then darkness descended and there was nothing to do but wait. There was no clock tower in the settlement, and none among them had a timepiece; thus they had no way to set an exact hour for gathering. Each man must choose the time of least risk for leaving his hut and for hurrying to Will and Mary’s hut.

  After removing all the provisions they had collected from the hiding place under the bed, Mary put the children down to sleep as if it was a normal night. She and Will then bundled the supplies in preparation for transport to the beach.

  Matey, with rum on his breath, was the first to arrive, Scrapper in his wake. Next came James, leaving some provisions and going back to get more. Luke and Bados appeared shortly thereafter, followed by Pip. Will sent Pip back out to stand watch a little distance up the trail. Pip had a piercing whistle. If anyone not of their group should approach, he was to whistle a warning.

  As there was no back door to the hut, it was unsafe to wait inside. They crouched in the yard, fully aware that if a warning whistle came from Pip, there would be a scramble for the bushes and it would be every man for himself.

  “What’s taking Cox so long? And that Brown,” Will muttered. He fingered a hatchet, freshly sharpened. “If the Canadian clerk turns out to be a snitch and has in mind to fetch the Rangers, I’ll see he never lives to brag about it.”

  “Must you think such evil thoughts?” Mary scolded in a whisper. “You’d do better to feel gratitude for the provisions he has donated to our cause.”

  Will might have answered her back, but just then James, laden with all he could carry, slipped into the clearing. As he set down his load, Will asked, “Did you see anything of Cox?”

  James squatted between Will and Mary and whispered, “Two Rangers are hanging about on the path in front of his shop. I don’t think he can leave without being seen.”

  “Shall we go without him?” Will asked, in a low voice.

  There was a babble of whispered opinions, most in favour of not risking a longer wait. But Mary said, “We have a fair bit of darkness left, more than enough to get down to the boat and out of the harbour before daylight. We will wait as long as we can.”

  They fell silent then, and waited.

  At last the sound they were straining their ears for came: the footsteps of two people hurrying up the path. Cox burst into the clearing, followed close behind by Pip.

  “Sorry, mates,” Cox gasped. “My tools was still in the shop, and I was loath to come without them. I thought them bloody Rangers was never going to go on by.”

  Everyone leapt to their feet and scrambled madly to get their provisions together, on their backs or in their arms. “Follow Will,” Mary instructed, lest they assume they would be taking the fishing boat and throw their things in it. Will was the only one—she hoped—who knew that it was the Governor’s cutter they intended to use for their getaway.

  As the others plunged down the trail leading to the beach, Mary stepped inside the hut and took the two sleeping children in her arms. Emanuel, just a little shy of his first birthday, was no weight at all to lift. Charlotte, although she was three-and-a-half, was a slight child, too, whom Mary could easily rest on the other hip. Apart from the children, all she carried were the chart and quadrant; those two things and one more she trusted to no one else. The leather tobacco pouch which Smit had given her for bringing tidbits of food to Charlotte, hung about her neck. In it was the compass.

  When Mary reached the beach, the others were already at the cutter, some handing provisions in, others trying to stow them in such a way as to leave space for men at the oars. Mary laid the chart and quadrant on a rock to protect them from the wet, then waded into the water and passed the children up to Will. Then she returned for the navigational instruments.

  Just as she bent to pick them up, a figure burst out of the bushes, followed closely by a second, taller one. The shape of the first, as it turned sideways for an instant to speak to the one behind, revealed itself as Colleen. For one heart-stopping instant Mary believed Colleen was as good as her word and had led the sentry to them. Then they were upon her, and she saw that the taller one was Johnny.

  “Mary!” Colleen whispered urgently, and grasped Mary about the waist with a hug that pushed the breath out of her lungs. “Here, take this!” She thrust a packet into Mary’s hand. “Sweet tea! ‘Tis the only gift I have.”

  Mary all but collapsed with relief onto her friend’s ample bosom and belly. “Colleen, you’ve given me a gift more precious than this! The love of the sister you are to me, the only one I’ve ever had.”

  Then Will was at Mary’s side, tugging on her arm, and Johnny took hold of Colleen. Being drawn in opposite directions, they nearly pulled each other off balance before it came to them that they must let go.

  Mary ran down to the water and, with chart and quadrant held above her head to keep them from getting splashed, waded out to the boat. It was hard to find space in the cutter, so cluttered was it with provisions which had been thrown aboard helter-skelter. Scrapper and Pip, being the smallest, sat at the first set of oars. Next came Bados and Luke, with Matey behind them, the seat next to him reserved for Will. Cox and James would ride in the stern until they were well away. Later, when there was time, they would be trained on the oars.

  Mary was taken up into the bow of the boat next to where the children had been bedded down, and Will took his place next to Matey at the back. The men gave their all to the oars, with not a word spoken. That had been agreed upon before, for the neck of the harbour was narrow, and it was said that the sentries never slept. It must be approaching midnight, Mary calculated, but she could not be sure. The sky was overcast, making the night very black. Only faintly could they make out the deeper blackness of rocks that lined the neck of the harbour.

  Then the first swell of the open ocean lifted the cutter and they sailed into the vastness as silently as a bird takes to the sky.

  3

  Freedom

  *

  The Coral Sea

  So great was their fear of discovery that silence reigned even after they were past the neck of the harbour and far out to sea. The men at the oars pulled hard, with little conversation beyond an occasional murmur. They kept their ears tuned to the sounds of the surf because, on this
moonless night, it was hard to discern exactly how far they were from shore. All were relieved when dawn greyed the sky and the outline of the land and its rocky points were clearly visible.

  It was Will who finally broke their self-imposed silence by announcing, “Come broad day, we’ll start looking for a harbour to put in and rest.”

  Mary, who had curled up in the bow next to the sleeping children, raised her head and called back to him, “Better we row on through the day and not stop until nightfall. If no safe place be found then, we should go on through another night.”

  A mild grumble went up from the men, and Will opened his mouth to contradict her. But before he could speak, Mary rose and said to the group at large, “Or have you forgotten how many bolters were caught on their first or second day out and brought back to hang? All because they stopped to rest, and the mariners, who well know the region around the settlement, were able to overtake them?”

  Will’s mouth closed in a grim line. Mary unrolled the chart and studied it. Taking the compass from the leather tobacco pouch, she turned to the sea and set a course. Except for when she was tending to the children, she remained thus throughout the daylight hours, and would do so for many days to come. Although she faced away from the men as she pointed out the direction they were to go, they were not even one day out when she began to feel the respect her knowledge of navigation inspired in them.

  She likewise felt her husband’s coldness toward her and realised her error in countermanding his order. The crew had a great liking for him, and respected him for his boating skills. It would not do to be at odds with him, not when they needed every scrap of ability each of them had if this reckless adventure was to succeed.

  Turning from her vigil in the bow of the boat to nurse Emanuel, Mary covertly studied the men. At the back sat bandy-legged Matey; next to him, Scrapper, one cheek disfigured by a knife scar so close to the eye that one wondered that he had not been blinded in that particular altercation. Scrapper practically lived in Matey’s shadow, either for the protection the older man afforded him, or because there was, between them, a genuine bond of affection. Mary had no liking for either, but watching the strong and perfect harmony with which they rowed, she saw Will’s wisdom in insisting that both be brought along.