Convict Queen

by Marina Oliver

  The Experiment was smaller than the Neptune, but much less crowded. When they sailed early in December Molly resigned herself. Even if she could have escaped in Portsmouth, where could she safely hide in England?

  It was a few days later when there was a commotion and sounds of feverish activity on deck.

  'What's the matter?' Molly asked a passing sailor.

  'Lost the bowsprit,' he said. 'We'll have ter turn back.'

  From what she heard Molly learned they had been in the Bay of Biscay when they were hit by a storm and rough seas. They turned back, needing to have repairs. Once more Christmas was spent by Molly on a convict ship, but on the second day of January in the new year the ship sailed once more.

  Just over two months later they reached Rio de Janeiro in South America.

  'Become a convict and see the world,' Mary Daniels, a woman Mary had made friends with, said.

  They were a month in that port, and Molly longed for the opportunity, not to escape, but to see something of this new continent. She had recovered much of her normally cheerful spirits. This time she would not attempt to escape. There were many opportunities in New South Wales, as many of the free settlers tried to convince themselves when they talked to Molly. She would see how she could take advantage of them.

  They reached Port Jackson in the middle of June, but had to wait outside for three days because of strong winter winds. At last they were able to enter the harbour, and Molly stepped ashore, into a town that had expanded greatly since she had left it, and was very different from when she had first arrived aboard the Neptune.

  *

  As she and the other convict women waited to be dealt with by the officials, Molly looked around. No longer were there the dozens of tents that had been hastily erected in front of the small, overburdened hospital, to cope with the hundreds of sick and injured who had arrived on the Second Fleet. There were many more huts, built in a haphazard manner, and the harbour was busy with small boats. She wondered what to do. Should she claim her marriage with William? Did she wish to return to him? They knew, of course, about her escape ten years earlier. If she remained here in Sydney with William would she have another opportunity to escape? Did she, even, wish for it? There was nothing left for her in England. Mary had vanished, James was now at sea, and she would never dare again to go to Corvedale or visit her brothers. Thomas Mare would be vindictive if he ever again saw her, and should she be caught she might not be given the more lenient sentence of transportation yet again. And, she thought with a wry grin, she'd had quite enough of sea journeys. She would be sensible and stay here, try to make a new life for herself. But, and the question remained, did she want that life to be with William?

  She ought, she decided, to see him before she made up her mind. Despite the huge growth of the town, it was easy enough to slip away and try to find the hut she had once shared with William, She halted a few yards away, not certain she had found the right hut, for there was a strange woman sitting on a stool outside, nursing a baby.

  Had William found another woman? Molly felt a wave of jealousy, then told herself not to be foolish. She had not remained faithful to him, so why should she expect him to do so, especially as he would not expect ever to see her again? If he had a new family then her decision was made for her.

  She moved nearer and the woman looked up at her.

  'I'm looking for William Morgan. Is this where he lives?'

  The woman shook her head. 'He used to live 'ere, but 'im an' 'is wife and kids went to live at Hawkesbury, four or more years ago.'

  'Oh, did he? Thanks.'

  Molly turned away. So William had married too, another bigamous marriage. She grinned. She wouldn't like to have to sort out all these complications of just who was still married to whom. Best to leave things as they were, she decided. She had felt no love for William since he deserted her and left her to take the blame and punishment for his crime. The Hawkesbury River settlement was mainly for farmers, so had William abandoned his blacksmith trade and become a farmer? She wondered how he would prosper, then told herself she really did not wish to know. She was free of him. If, as seemed probable, she were sent back to Parramatta, she was unlikely ever to see him again.

  *

  CHAPTER 13

  As she had expected, Molly was sent to Parramatta. There was a church that looked as though it had not been finished, more huts than she recalled, and barracks which she assumed were for the convicts. Some of the ground near the huts had been cultivated, but most of these patches had been left to go wild, and not just because it was the middle of winter. Only a few were flourishing gardens, with the remains of harvested vegetables to be seen. The fruit trees had grown, and there were a few fenced enclosures. When she was marched past the stocks she was horrified to see a woman, naked and with her head shaved, sitting there. She shivered. She'd better mind her manners.

  Despite this resolve she was furious when she discovered she was being allocated to the Factory above the gaol, and could not help protesting. From one of the soldiers detailed to escort the women she learned that the old gaol, built after she had moved to Sydney, had been damaged by fire.

  'That were in 1799, and they've only just repaired it, five years on. But it's much better. They've installed looms in the upper part, and George Mealmaker is to supervise the women weavers.'

  'I'm not a weaver,' Molly protested. 'And they don't need to keep me in a prison!'

  'I doubt many of the women are, but they'll soon teach ye.'

  Now, she'd heard, many of the farmers were breeding sheep, and a good deal of woollen cloth was being produced. Perhaps, she hoped, she might be set to sewing garments, if the woollen cloth they were weaving was intended for this. Surely they would not want to trade with it?

  For the time being she had to accept, but she would soon find something better. She had worked in the fields as a girl, and would find farming far more congenial than weaving. From her brief glimpses she thought the orchards and some of the fields were flourishing, though others needed more attention. Some cattle were confined in pens, but others roamed freely.

  She was thrust up the stairs into one of the big rooms above the gaol. The conditions in the two big rooms were, Molly soon discovered, almost as bad as conditions aboard ship. There were a couple of hundred convict women crammed into the rooms, so that there was barely space for the weaving looms, and what was worse, Molly thought, most of them had to sleep there too, finding space where they could among the bales of wool. The only benefit was that the wool was soft, and she managed to protect one spot in a corner behind one of the looms for her own, fighting off all attempts to drive her out of it. Soon she was accepted, and able to ask what had happened during the ten years she had been away.

  'Who's the Governor now?' she asked. 'It used to be Major Grose.'

  'He went back to England. It's all right for the likes of him,' one woman said.

  'He was ill, weren't he?' another asked.

  Molly sighed. Why couldn't they answer a simple question? 'But who is it now, and what's he like?'

  'Well first there was a fellow called Paterson, I think.'

  'That's right, then a navy chap, Captain Hunter.'

  'But now?' Molly persisted. 'Is he very severe with his punishments? Sending lots to the stocks?'

  At last one of the women gave Molly what she'd asked for. 'It's another navy man now, Philip King.'

  'What's he like?'

  'He's not so bad, though they say 'e's a vicious temper. He's stopped them bringing in all that rum, what made the Corps drunk all the time. That's set them agin 'im. And he's tryin' to control prices. He's had a new warehouse built, an' sells goods cheap.'

  'And 'e's had a brewery built,' another said. 'Soon we'll 'ave ale instead of rum.'

  'There's more workin' on the government farms now, not so many as servants to the officers.'

  'He's made bigger land grants.'

  'Fat lot o' good that does us, though!'

  Mol
ly wondered whether she could get herself transferred to a farm. It would be much more congenial work than being cooped up here trying to learn to weave.

  'I saw some cattle,' she said thoughtfully. 'Far more than when I left.'

  'They say Governor King brought some from India.'

  'Sheep too. And Mrs Macarthur's got a whole lot o' sheep up at Elizabeth Farm.'

  Molly went to sleep that night planning, if not another escape to England, ways of getting free of this unpalatable task and the company of these women.

  *

  The women who could not weave were set to carding the wool, which Molly found tedious. They were not prisoners, so they managed occasionally to leave the factory and walk about the settlement. It had grown, and Molly was able to look more closely at the changes. She went to look at the Macarthur farm, which was growing in size rapidly. She recalled the Macarthur couple on the Neptune, and when she was told that John, as Regimental Paymaster, had acquired many land grants, she was not surprised.

  'Macarthur's in England,' Molly was told by one of the convicts who was looking after some of the many goats grazing on rough land. 'Had a fight wi' Governor Paterson,' he added, and laughed. 'Fiery temper, the man has, and his wife behaves as if she's royalty. Just because he was a soldier, and not one of us.'

  The rest of Parramatta looked to be a thriving community, apart from the neglected patches that some of the soldiers and convicts had abandoned. She needed to talk to someone outside what she thought of as a prison, and wondered whether her friend Clara was still here. To her delight she found her, as she had so often before, at one of the water holes washing clothes.

  'Molly? Surely it can't be you!'

  Molly laughed. 'I know it's been ten years, but you don't look any different. Is your husband still with the Corps?'

  'Yes. He don't want ter go back to England, he's going to get a farm grant soon. But how did you come back? We heard you was livin' somewhere up north, with the natives.'

  'Up north?'

  'Aye. They said a white woman was livin' there, and they sent soldiers to find 'er, but they didn't. So where were you?'

  'Mayhap I'd have been better with the natives! They couldn't be as bad as some in England.'

  'England?'

  'Yes, I got away, back to England.'

  They sat down beside the water hole and Molly told her friend how she had escaped, found her children, and married again.

  'Then it all went wrong, I was accused of theft by a woman I thought was a friend. And they sent me out here again, and here I suppose I'll have to stay.'

  'It's not so bad a life,' Clara said. 'There's food enough now. Both here and at Hawkesbury they grow plenty. Both are better than Sydney for growing things. But watch out for the men when they've been at the rum. There's still too much around.'

  'Drunks, you mean? I heard the new Governor was controlling it.'

  'Trying to. The officers buy the rum from the ships, an' some make spirits from the wheat, and then they use it instead o' coins. They get all the best goods, and pay as little as possible for that or for labour. When Governor Phillip went back to England there was no one ter stop 'em. Major Grose was in charge of the Corps, and 'e let that John Macarthur do what he wanted, He was made Paymaster and Inspector of Public Works. It was Grose what gave 'im that land where they built Elizabeth Farm. Now they're makin' that bigger, though why they want more'n three rooms when most of us 'ave ter share one, I don't know. Then 'e got more land. When Hunter came, an' tried to stop 'im, so 'e resigned. It were the duel wi' Paterson that finished 'im. He went back to England for a court martial.'

  'Is he still there?'

  'Yes, but the rest of 'em are still in charge of everything, even the court an' the convicts. They do what they like, still try to.'

  'I see.'

  'When Governor Hunter came out they 'ated 'im. I 'eard they'd sent letters 'ome, complainin', so 'e was recalled.'

  'Then this new Governor came? But I thought he was in control?'

  'None of the Governors 'ave been able to stop it, though Governor King is tryin'. The officers don't like 'im because of that. People like John Macarthur are too powerful here.' She giggled. 'They call us the rum corps.'

  It seemed Macarthur had become important here, and she had seen Elizabeth Farm, which looked prosperous. He was obviously getting wealthy. They were catching up on other news about people Molly had known when a soldier, an officer, stopped beside them.

  'I know you,' he said to Molly. 'Aren't you one of the Factory women?'

  'Yes. So? We are sometimes let out of gaol.'

  He grinned. 'What's your name?'

  'Molly Morgan. What's yours?

  He ignored the question. 'Molly Morgan. I've heard of you. Didn't you stow away on a ship bound for England, years since?'

  Molly glanced at him. He seemed to be amused, and she lifted her head and scrambled to her feet. She felt at a disadvantage sitting on the ground.

  'What if I did?'

  'Are you planning to do it again? I suppose you seduced one of the Captains?'

  'That's none of your business.'

  'I'm just impressed with your initiative. But now, to make sure you don't escape again, I'll escort you back to the gaol.'

  There was no help for it. Promising to try and see Clara again, Molly began to walk beside him back towards the gaol.

  'I'm Thomas Byrne,' he told her. 'Are you a weaver?'

  'Of course not. I used to be a seamstress.' She glanced at his shirt, which showed a considerable amount of wear. 'If you could find some linen I could make you a new shirt,' she offered, and he laughed and slipped an arm round her waist.

  'Could you, Molly Morgan? What else can you do for me?'

  'That, Mr Thomas Byrne, depends on what you offer me in payment.'

  *

  Within days Molly was living in the two-roomed house with Thomas. He had a small plot of land, and she was officially allocated to him as a servant. In theory the government fed and clothed her, but soon she was growing enough vegetables to make their meals more appetising. She was often left to her own devices as he went about his duties, frequently in Sydney doing guard duty.

  'You'll have no wars to fight here, unless the aborigines become warlike,' she said one evening.

  'They are no problem. It's just the occasional one that tries something. They might steal what they can, but they aren't organised enough to act together. There's very little excitement here. Before you came it was the Irish who rebelled. Hasn't anyone told you about Vinegar Hill?'

  'That's an odd name. What happened?'

  'The name was from a battle back in Ireland. This one was at Castle Hill. It was a gang of Irish who stole weapons from various farms, in March just before St Patrick's day. They spent the night setting fire to shacks, and stealing what they could, stakes and a musket or two.'

  'What did they want?'

  'They thought they could take Parramatta and Sydney. What they meant to do, no one knows for certain. Some say they meant to capture ships, others think they wanted to set up their own government.'

  'Surely there wouldn't have been enough of them for that?'

  'No. There were a couple of hundred, and far fewer of us. It was daft, but that's the Irish! Major Johnston had us march all night from Sydney, but we had guns. He had twice as many of the crew of a ship to help, as well, and they put it down. Most of them were sent to Coal Harbour. It's supposed to be a hell hole. Then the ringleaders were hanged. That was mainly the Reverend Marsden. He hates the Irish.'

  'He does go on about them, and all Roman Catholics, in his sermons!'

  'He feels a fool.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'When the Irish were coming, he and his wife, and Elizabeth Macarthur, got into a boat and tried to float down the river to Sydney. And there was no need, but he's a right fat coward.'

  She cooked and cleaned for him, and spent the rest of her time cultivating their garden plot. Thomas had been a town bo
y, had little interest in farming, like many others, and had obtained the land only as a proof of his status. The Corps Officers, he told Molly, were being given big land grants.

  'Then why don't you ask for more?'

  He'd been supplied with various convicts to work what he had, he explained, but none of them had known much more about farming than he did.

  'Get some more, and I'll see it's profitable.'

  He grinned at her, but when she explained her ideas he agreed to ask.

  'Perhaps we might get a cow,' she said. 'I can make butter and cheese, which would be far cheaper than having to buy it at the sort of prices charged.'

  'Just one, or shall we start a herd?' he asked, laughing. 'I can see you've been thinking about it. Would you really be able to manage a cow?'

  'Or two or three?' she whispered, and kissed him.

  Molly sat up, pushing aside the blanket. She'd not expected him to agree to even one cow. He'd once said that the settlers who depended on a single cow, which often wandered away if they weren't constantly watched and guarded, or were stolen by the natives, were fools.

  'Why not? We could sell the milk, and if we could get a churn, I can make cheese and butter.'

  'But do you want more rum? You don't even like it much.'

  'I don't drink too much, you mean, and I've a hard head. We don't have to take payment in rum. No, we'll barter for other things, even for labour. If we have several cows I would have to teach some of the women how to milk them. Most of the folk here came from towns back in England, they don't even know how to milk a cow. They have to pay someone like me to do it. And all they can afford in payment is some of the milk.'

  'Is that why we have so much milk?' he asked, and laughed.