‘I can’t believe what I’m seeing,’ Will said, the horror in his eyes matching his cracking voice. ‘God save us from men that would let this happen.’
‘They aren’t men,’ Mary said in a loud, clear voice, feeling she could strangle those responsible with her own bare hands. ‘They’re beasts.’
Her anger fuelled her, stopped her considering the risk of infection to herself or even caring about the smell any more. The convicts were almost naked, their bodies covered with sores, wriggling maggots and faeces. She bent over one man to try to get him to drink some water, and he tried to cover his exposed penis because she was a woman.
‘I’ve seen plenty of those before,’ she said gently, touched that even in such a terrible state and close to death, he could still concern himself with propriety. ‘You’re safe now, there’s food and drink, water to wash, but you’ve got to fight to get better. Don’t you dare give up on me!’
‘Your name?’ he asked, his cracked lips splitting open with the effort to speak.
‘Mary,’ she said, wiping his face with a wet rag, ‘Mary Bryant. And yours?’
‘Sam Broome,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘God bless you, Mary.’
The sights grew worse as the day progressed, men with dysentery so bad that the fluids ran out of their bodies where they lay. Surgeon White said they were all suffering from scurvy too and ordered men to go out into the bush and pick quantities of the ‘acid berries’ he’d found had anti-scorbutic properties.
It seemed 267 people had perished before even reaching Port Jackson, and many others had died since. In fact the bodies of those who died after coming through the Heads were thrown overboard. Of the survivors, 486 were desperately sick, and most of them were not expected to recover. Mary heard as she helped one woman with a tiny infant that she hadn’t even had her shackles removed for the child’s birth. She was to be told that again several more times during the day.
Later that evening in the drawing room of Government House, Captain Phillip sat with Captain William Hill of the Juliana, and raged about the obscenity he’d seen that day.
‘I have spoken to the captains of the Neptune and the Scarborough,’ William Hill said. ‘In my opinion they should be hanged.’
William Hill was considered a hard man, but he had made sure the women convicts on his ship were well cared for. Some of their number had been old and feeble when they embarked, and he’d had a handful of deaths, but the rest of the women were probably better fed than they’d ever been in their whole lives. In Hill’s opinion it would have been far more humane for the courts back in England to have sent all these people to the gallows than to allow blackguards like Captain Trail of the Neptune to profit by their slow and painful deaths.
‘I understand there was a question of the prisoners on the Scarborough plotting to take over the ship,’ Phillip said, his small face purple with anger. ‘That would necessitate putting the ring-leaders in chains. But the conditions on the Neptune beggar belief. The ship should never have been considered seaworthy, she took on water constantly. The prisoners were actually up to their waists in water for part of the voyage. No fumigation of their quarters, none of them brought up on deck for exercise and fresh air.’
‘I shall voice all this when I return to England,’ William Hill said forcefully, banging his fist on the table. ‘In my opinion these men are murderers, far worse species than you have in this colony.’
Arthur Phillip went over to the window. Below, the town was quiet, fires burning like little beacons in the darkness. He thought of all those lying in the hospital and the tents in front of it, and wondered how many more would be dead by dawn.
He was close to complete exhaustion. He had taken the position as Captain of the Fleet and then as Governor General because he believed he could make this penal colony a success. He had hoped that he could convert his criminal charges into men and women who would grasp the opportunities open to them and make something of themselves.
Sadly, he seemed to have failed. He knew now that the offer of free land at the end of their sentences would only be taken up by a few. Most were too lazy and incompetent to farm. The survivors of the Second Fleet would be prejudiced against the colony from the outset, and who could really blame them?
He was staring into the abyss again. Today he’d heard a Third Fleet was on its way with another 1,000 convicts. Many of his good officers would be returning home then. He’d done his very best, he’d tried to govern with humanity, but even a gardener couldn’t hope to grow something of lasting beauty without basic equipment, good seed and fertile conditions.
‘You seem troubled, Arthur,’ William said from behind him. ‘Today’s events are no reflection on you.’
Phillip turned to Hill and pulled himself up erect. ‘I think they are a reflection on all of us,’ he said wearily. ‘On those who stand by and watch the guilty go unpunished, just as much as the guilty themselves.’
‘You’re very quiet this evening, Mary,’ Will said. It was Christmas Day, and he supposed she was brooding on Cornwall, and imagining her family sitting around the fire with a roast goose in their bellies. Lately he’d often heard her telling Charlotte about Fowey and her relatives there. As time went on she seemed to think about them more, rather than less.
‘It’s too hot to talk,’ she said, but smiled at him and affectionately reached out from her stool to pat his thigh. ‘It’s a wonder the little ’uns can sleep.’
It had been fearfully hot for weeks now, the animals and poultry had taken to lying down in any shade or water they could find. Will considered himself lucky to be off fishing every day, at least out in the bay there was always a breeze.
‘I thought maybe you were thinking of home,’ he said.
‘About how to get home,’ she corrected him, and grinned. ‘I think I know how to get the stuff we need.’
Will rolled his eyes with impatience. She never let up about escape. Even when she didn’t talk about it, he knew she was thinking about it. He’d never known a woman as dogged as Mary.
Will was happy enough in the colony, though he would never admit that to anyone, least of all Mary. While they were all starving, he would gladly have gone, but the colony had got back on its feet since the Second Fleet arrived.
The help he and Mary had given the sick convicts had been noted by the officers, and as the convicts got better, they too were grateful for the kindness they’d been shown. They had nothing to reward him with except their admiration and loyalty of course, but that was enough for Will. It made him feel important.
He had the freedom to come and go as he liked within the settlement. He did a job he loved. He could treat Captain Phillip’s cutter as his own. He could get practically anything he wanted in exchange for fish. He even had a fair stash of money too, for the crews of the Second Fleet were all sick of salted pork and were glad to pay him for fish. But above all he enjoyed his status here: men looked up to him, women lusted after him. He had it all.
‘So where are you going to get it?’ he said wearily.
‘Captain Smith,’ she said.
Will was so surprised he nearly fell off his stool. Captain Detmer Smith, a Dutchman, had only been here a few days. He was the owner of a snow, the Waaksamheyd, that Captain Ball of the Supply had chartered while in Batavia. Smith had sailed in on 17 December with provisions for the colony, after an appalling voyage in which sixteen of his Malay crew had died of fever.
There was some sort of wangle with regard to the provisions going on between Captain Phillip and Smith, and it appeared that none of the officers in the colony liked the Dutchman. Will did, however. Smith had none of the stuffiness of the English captains, he was warm, open and friendly.
‘Are you mad?’ Will asked Mary.
‘No, just devious,’ Mary replied. ‘Detmer likes you and me. And I shall make sure he likes us even more before I talk him into parting with charts and a sextant.’
‘He’ll never do that,’ Will scoffed.
‘Why not?’ Mary retorted. ‘He’s being treated shabbily by all the officers, he’s lonely and far from home. He’s not English, so why should he mind helping a couple of English convicts escape?’
Will always slapped Mary’s ideas down as a matter of principle. Women weren’t supposed to be the clever ones. Yet deep down he knew her mind was sharper than his. She’d once asked him to teach her to read and write, and he said he couldn’t, not without books. She never asked him again, and somehow he knew that was because she’d seen through him. He didn’t want a wife who could read and write. It would diminish him.
But then Mary could see through most people. She watched and listened, she took in things Will would never notice. She might even be right about Detmer Smith.
Will made love to Mary that night, and took great care to please her, for he really wanted her to forget about escape. His sentence would be up in March, and though he often told other men he would be on the first ship home, that wasn’t what he wanted at all.
He only got nostalgic for Cornwall when he was drinking. He would remember the good parts, the soft climate, the moors and the woodland, the laughter in the tavern, the camaraderie among the fishermen.
But sober, he remembered it wasn’t quite like that. Without a fishing boat of your own, you were dependent on the man who had one, hauling nets all night in freezing conditions for a shilling or so. He’d been hungry there too, and no place looked pretty to a man with an empty belly.
At least it was warm here, even in the winter. He might have got cold and wet many times when the weather was bad, but it wasn’t the kind of cold that got right into your bones so it almost paralysed you.
It was said that men would be offered free land here when their time was up. Land was of no use to him, what he wanted was his own fishing business. If he could sell his catches to the store he’d soon be a rich man. Then he could build a fine house for Mary and the children. In time, Emmanuel would come into the business with him.
‘Was that good?’ Will whispered when he’d done. He was soaked with sweat, so hot that it was almost torture to hold Mary’s equally hot body in his arms.
‘Wonderful,’ she murmured against his chest. ‘But it’s too hot. Let’s run down to the water for a dip!’
She didn’t even wait for him to agree, but wriggled out of his arms, took his hand and pulled him out of bed. Then with a little giggle she ran out of the hut and down to the water.
Will smiled. One of the things he liked best about Mary was her spontaneity. She got an idea and she wanted to put it into action right away, not think about it first. Maybe that was what had got her into trouble in the first place, but he wouldn’t change that part of her.
She was passionate too, something he had never expected of her, for she looked so chaste and shy. She was always eager for love-making, responding quickly to just a kiss or a cuddle. Time after time she’d taken his mind right off hunger with her sensual touches, the way she wanted to please him.
The moon was bright, catching on her girlish, slender body as she dived into the sea as gracefully as a porpoise. Few other women here could swim, or men for that matter; they walked in up to their waists looking fearful, as if they expected the sea to swallow them up. Will found that daring quality about Mary as sexy as well-rounded breasts or silky skin.
She waved, beckoning him to join her, and Will ran eagerly down the beach. They swam together a little way, then Mary turned on her back and floated, her hair like strands of seaweed around her face.
‘We’ve never done it in the sea,’ she said, and giggled softly.
‘We might drown if we try this far out,’ Will retorted, but he reached out for her, treading water and holding her afloat as he sucked at her nipple.
‘First one back to the shallows gets to be on top,’ she said, flipping herself over and making off to the shore.
For once Will didn’t try to beat her, he liked her being on top, and watching her face as she came.
‘I don’t think my John Thomas is all that eager,’ he said as he swam over to where she sat in just a foot or two of water. He thought she had never looked so pretty as she did tonight, her wet curls glistening on her bare shoulders. He knelt and showed her his penis, which had shrunk in the cold water so it looked like an old man’s.
‘I have ways of reviving him,’ she said with a grin like a whorehouse madam’s. ‘Would you like me to show you, sir?’
Will loved it when she played the whore. It made him feel powerful and lusty. He assumed when she reached out for his penis that she was just going to stroke it, but to his shock and delight, she wriggled closer in the water and took it into her mouth.
Will had heard from other men of high-priced whores doing such a thing, but he’d never bedded a woman who would do it. As Mary’s warm mouth closed over him he gasped, for it was the sweetest sensation he’d ever known. He was erect immediately, and he was terrified she would stop, but she didn’t. Instead, she held on to one of his buttocks, cradling his balls with the other hand, and moving her lips and tongue up and down the length of him. He could barely keep his balance on his knees, and when he looked down and saw himself disappearing into her eager mouth, her naked breasts undulating against his thighs, he almost toppled over.
It was the best thing he’d ever known. All at once he was no longer in a penal colony, a man stripped of all decency and pride, but transported to a moonlit tropical island, where he was a rich gentleman. He imagined himself in a ruffled silk shirt and velvet knee-breeches with silver buckles, and Mary as an exotic beauty wearing nothing but a garland of flowers, his willing slave.
‘That’s so good,’ he moaned, catching hold of her head and bringing her even closer.
‘How good?’ she asked, breaking away from him for a moment and looking up at him with an impish grin.
‘The best in the world,’ he sighed. ‘Don’t stop now.’
‘I haven’t told you the price yet,’ she said.
‘Whatever it is I’ll pay it.’ Will’s voice was cracking with passion now.
‘Escape is the price,’ she murmured. ‘Are you willing to pay it?’
Will was willing to promise her anything. ‘Yes,’ he groaned. ‘Just do it some more.’
Mary smiled to herself as she continued. She had him now. Will might make himself out to be tougher and braver than he really was, but she’d found he always kept promises. She was very grateful to Sadie from the Lady Juliana for passing on her secret weapon to get men to obey her. The funny thing was, Mary had expected to find it repulsive but it wasn’t, in fact she liked doing it.
Chapter ten
As Will lowered the sack of rice into the hiding place under the hut floor, he thought he must be in love. Why else would he be going along with this madness of Mary’s, when in another month he’d be a free man?
He sat back on his haunches for a moment after he’d put the false floor back in place. Anxious as he was about the plan, he couldn’t help but smile. Whether or not he was a free man, it would be sweet revenge for all the injustices and humiliations to sail out of the harbour in the Captain’s cutter, taking not just Mary and the children, but his friends too.
The Dutch East Indies sounded a fine place to Will, a tropical paradise where a man could live like a king. Of course it was a huge distance, mostly uncharted, and daunting that no one apart from Captain Cook had ever sailed there from here. But in a strange way the danger made the voyage even more attractive to him, the kind legends were made of. Will wanted to be talked of in awed tones even after his death.
It was mid-February, and Will knew they must leave by the end of March or risk running into violent autumn gales. But there was still so much to do, including asking Detmer Smith for assistance.
Mary was with Detmer now, delivering back his clean washing, and no doubt she was charming him for all she was worth. Will didn’t mind her doing that, it was necessary, but he didn’t like the way she was trying to take complete control of the plan.
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She had insisted he shouldn’t ask his friends to join them until the last minute. She had to know what hell it was not to be able to confide in them, he wanted a man to talk to about it, not just a woman. Mary said one of them might forget himself when he’d been drinking and start talking. They all had women and Mary’s reasoning was that these women might peach if they knew they were going to be left behind. So all Will could do for now was sit it out, get the stores together, and work on Detmer and Bennelong.
Will still often saw Bennelong when he was out fishing. He was naked again, and proudly showed Will new scars he’d acquired in fights. He remembered quite a bit of the English he’d learned while in captivity, and with that, and signs, Will found he could communicate with him quite adequately.
Back last November Bennelong had returned to the settlement, wearing the clothes he’d originally been given by Captain Phillip. This appeared to be a sign that he was willing to be an interpreter, as long as no one tried to chain him up again, and so the Captain gave him a hut to live in and food from the stores.
In Will’s opinion, Captain Phillip had bitten off more than he could chew with Bennelong. The man’s real interests were fighting and women; all he wanted from the settlement was the drink the newcomers had introduced him to. Already he’d made a nuisance of himself by getting drunk and wild at Government House, and if Phillip thought that by giving him a house he’d become his lackey, he was mistaken.
Will really liked Bennelong, for his childlike enthusiasm, his wide grin and his curiosity about white men. When he came out fishing with Will he’d taught him some of his language and customs.
It was curious that in Bennelong’s culture, if someone wanted a woman they usually hit her with a club and carried her off. Remaining faithful to just one woman seemed absurd to them, yet Bennelong revered Mary. His face lit up when he saw her, he was very anxious to please her, and Will was fairly certain that if Bennelong ever saw him with another woman, he would fight him.