Authors: Loki Renard
“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 choosing 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.
But this place was not England. It was filled with new things, new birds and other creatures. I could barely believe my eyes when I saw perched upon a tree, a lizard at least three foot long, black with yellow-banded stripes. It turned its head to watch as we went past, watching with an impassive glittering dark gaze that put me in mind of Master Roake. I could not help but hold back a gasp of surprise, which made the driver laugh. “That's a Lace Goanna,” he said over his shoulder. “The least of your worries in these parts, but make sure not to be bitten, it leaves a pretty mark.”
“The least of my worries? What do you mean?”
The driver laughed. “This place is full of creatures that can kill you before you see ‘em. There are fishes that look like rocks and spiders the size of a dinner plate. General rule is to keep an eye out and watch where you step. And keep yer hand out of dark holes, like boots or cupboards. Red backs and funnelwebs like to make their homes in there.”
“Red backs?”
“Black spiders, thick red stripes on their ass. Kill you so much as look at you. Little things, but more poisonous than a cup of arsenic. Funnelwebs are fuzzy black things, hunters, they’ll leap out and catch you before you know what’s ‘appened.”
I drew myself up in the wagon. “You are making sport with me.”
“This is the devil’s land, miss, there’s snakes everywhere you look, got yer Taipan. Brown, plain looking thing, but the poison from one bite will stop your heart in a second. Tiger snakes too... and stay out of the water, there’s crocodiles in the rivers and sharks in the seas, both of ‘em will ‘ave you in ‘alf before you can say your prayers.”
Unpleasant shivers traversed my spine and I fancied I could feel a dozen dangerous crawling creatures making their way across my body. “How does anybody survive here if that is the case?” I tried to maintain some level of incredulity.
“Luck and care, mind where you put your 'ands and feet and remember this ain’t England. This place is owned by the devil and his minions are everywhere.”
I said a quick prayer and hoped that the good lord would see fit to keep me safe. Certainly he had seen fit to preserve me whilst others succumbed to the tricks and traps set
before them.
“There’s the desert people too,” he said conversationally.
“You’re not likely to see many of ‘em, but stay away if you do.”
“Desert people?”
“Black as night, they live were no civilized man can,” the driver said, enjoying his opportunity to enlighten me. “They 'unt with spears - and sometimes it ain’t animals they 'unt, if you catch my drift.”
I did catch his drift.
“Stay in the civilized areas, and be glad for the factory. Though a lady like you won’t stay there long I’ll warrant, they’ll be lining up for you.”
Treacherous creatures, man hunting men and now lechery as the driver leered over his shoulder, letting the horse take control of the wagon as he feasted his eyes on my form. I drew my shawl about my shoulders and looked at him haughtily, but it only made him laugh. “You won’t be keepin’ that attitude long, not out ‘ere. There ain’t any ladies out ‘ere.”
I made no reply, but prayed for the sanctuary of the female factory. Rather a workhouse than a whorehouse. My prayers were soon answered. My destination first appeared to me as a large wall rising out of the red earth. It was clear that those who had built the female factory had done so with the intention of keeping its occupants firmly inside for the walls were thick and strong and tall, blights on the landscape where little lizards scuttled hither and thither.
The main building was a
three-storied sandstone affair that looked very impressive and stately at first glance. For a moment I thought my luck might be on the rise, but as we drew closer I saw that there were several pinched looking figures milling about the place. They did not look happy, nor rested, nor well fed and they jeered at me as I was drawn past with comments that intimated I would soon join their number and partake in their misery.
The cart came to a halt and I was hauled down to stand on the steps whilst someone was fetched. My arrival was irregular and had caused some small commotion.
“What is the meaning of this?” A well-dressed portly lady came sweeping down the steps. She looked fine and unlike some of the other ladies I had seen she clearly knew where the food stores were kept. Her jowls wobbled to and fro when she spoke.
“This is a prisoner found ‘iding aboard the Valiant, ‘aven't inquired as to ‘er name.”
“Very good,” the lady said, looking me up and down in the way a farmer might look at a cow. “Leave her with me,” she said, pressing some silver into the driver’s hand. With a tip of his old hat he was off and I was left alone out the front of that great building, a prisoner once more.
“I am
Mrs. Moore. I am the matron and whilst you are here you will be under my care,” the woman announced. When I did not make any reply, she continued to explain matters to me in a brisk manner that left no place for sympathy. “We have three hundred head here. Do as you’re told and you’ll have the chance to earn your freedom through assignment or marriage. Until that time you’ll work here.”
“And if I do not wish to work?” I should not have asked the question. I should have kept my mouth shut but a little of my free spirit still remained and manifested itself in that impertinent query.
“Oh we have a lady in our midst.” The woman’s expression was very cruel. “Well then you’ll earn yourself one of our Parramatta punishments. Millie!” She raised her voice. “Where is Millie?”