The Disgrace of Kitty Grey (24 page)

Margaret sighed and then looked around at us. ‘Well, you are all looking very fine,' she said after a moment, and we primped our hair and smiled at this, for nearly all of us had made full use of the washing facilities and most were wearing the gowns which Mrs Fry had supplied. These were somewhat creased and crumpled, but at least were clean. ‘There is one thing you should be aware of,' she went on. ‘It is a long voyage and the sailors may make certain demands on you along the way.'

‘Well, if they do 'tis nothing to me!' Jane cried.

‘If you accept these demands,' Margaret said, ignoring her, ‘it may mean an easier journey: you'll have better sleeping quarters and may, perhaps, obtain more rations. However, you must remember that you may well find yourself bearing a child before the end of the journey.'

Those of us who had been smiling at Jane's words stopped.

‘Remember that your sailor, be he an officer or an ordinary seaman, will be sailing away again, while you, and perhaps a child, will not. You will find yourself still a prisoner, but in a strange country with an infant to care for too.'

I hadn't thought of this, and it took me aback somewhat. I certainly did not want either a sailor or a child! Betsy was enough for me – more than enough, for I worried constantly about keeping her fed and warm and safe. What to do, though? If you were selected by a sailor, would you be able to say yes or no to him? Probably not, I thought. Like being chosen by a prisoner in Botany Bay, it was
they
who would do the choosing.

Unless I got away before we sailed.

 

The next time I was on deck I studied the landscape around me carefully, wondering about those men that the guards had spoken of who'd got away from the hulks. If anyone was going to escape, I thought, it would have to be soon, before the ship started on its interminable journey. But how could such a thing be managed? The small rowing boats on the deck were tied up as tightly as parcels with knotted ropes and tarpaulin and, even if I could somehow procure one, how would I get it into the water? Alternatively, if I went over the side and tried to swim to shore there was no habitation nearby, no houses to make for, no markers to indicate where the land began. Exactly where
was
the shore, anyway? Where did the deep, muddy water blend into marsh and the marsh become solid? A girl on her own would surely perish out there in the freezing waters. And besides, I was not on my own, for I had Betsy.

No, it was clearly impossible. I would have to bear it: I would have to bid goodbye to my country, my family, and to all those in England I loved.

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

 

We were four days at Woolwich: four days in which more girls, women and children arrived, dull-eyed and bewildered in barges and rowing boats, until we numbered about eighty. I continued to loathe being confined in the orlop, for it was low-ceilinged and stuffy, and its lack of any natural light meant it always had to be lit with foul-smelling tallow candles. Moving around, I'd often hit my head on the low beams and, hearing the great bolts being pushed across at night, would feel strangely panicked, for I feared that seawater would seep in through the gigantic timbers and creep higher and higher until it came over our heads. When morning arrived and the hatches were opened I was always awake and the first to go up the ladder on to the deck. Fair weather or foul, I felt better in the open air.

On the morning of the fourth day our biscuit allowance was sent down to us as usual, but the hatches were not opened. They wanted us out of the way, said one of the seamen, because at midday we were due to sail with the tide around the coast towards Portsmouth. Before that, however, another group of girls arrived from Newgate and went through the washing and cleansing process just as we had done. When they were allowed to join the rest of us, I was overjoyed to discover that Martha was amongst them, accompanied by Robyn and baby Elizabeth.

All three were crying pitifully when they were brought on board, and Martha told me that they had had a particularly onerous journey from Newgate. They had set off the day before but a woman, previously quite well, had been taken with sickness on the boat down, so that after two hours they'd had to turn back. In all, they had been travelling for fourteen hours.

‘Gaol fever used to be a summer thing,' Martha said, collapsing beside me in the orlop, ‘but now 'tis no respecter of seasons. Fever is spreading right across Newgate – the Master's Side as well as the Commons'. I could not wait to leave and bring the children to safety.'

‘But how was it that the court passed sentence on you so quickly?' I asked. ‘I thought the shop manager was not to be found.'

‘At first he was not.' She managed to smile and added, ‘But then he came forward to indict me and was arrested for bigamy for his trouble, so that he must stand trial himself.' So saying, she closed her eyes, exhausted, and Margaret took baby Elizabeth from her and banged on the hatch for one of the sailors to bring a bowl of bread and warm milk, and quickly, for there was a nursing mother on board.

Betsy, beaming to see her friend, greeted her and then began pointing out the various parts of the ship. ‘The
port
is this side, Robyn,' I heard her say (getting it wrong), ‘and the other side is the
starrybird
. You must remember that.'

‘Port and starrybird,' Robyn repeated obediently.

‘The front of the boat is the
stern
,' we heard as they walked off, ‘and the back of the boat is the
aft
. . .'

‘I thought you were never going to accept a sentence which took you away from England,' I said to Martha when she had recovered slightly. ‘Although I'm mighty pleased that you did!'

‘I was going to refuse. But when they said my choice was to stay in Newgate and risk gaol fever, or be transported, I knew which I should choose.' She smiled a little. ‘Besides, realising that we were to be on the same ship, I knew I would have a friend.'

I smiled. ‘I am
very
glad to see you,' I said, giving her a hug.

 

When the tide was right, the
Juanita
set sail through the counties of Essex and Kent towards the open sea. The wind was high, and even down on the bottom deck we could hear it buffeting, filling the sails, the masts creaking and cracking. Shut in the orlop in the semi-darkness, I began to feel off balance and ill. Several other women felt the same.

‘ 'Tis just seasickness,' I was told as I sprawled on the floor, retching. ‘You'll soon get used to it.'

‘
Just
seasickness?' I muttered, giddy and nauseous.

‘The ship is barely moving!' said Jane, who was hardly affected. ‘Wait until we reach the high seas!'

I groaned.

‘Shall I stroke your forehead?' Betsy asked.

‘No, go away and play,' I said weakly, then was sick in a bucket and slept until the ship reached Portsmouth.

Martha told me later that I had missed a session of storytelling, for, locked up together for several hours, the girls had begun speaking of the crimes which had caused them to be there. One had taken receipt of a pair of shoe buckles knowing them to have been stolen; another had cut eight brass buttons from a man's coat. Several were there for coining, and – although originally sentenced to hang – had had their sentences commuted to transportation as a thanksgiving for the King having briefly recovered his senses. One girl had bought and resold the skins of swans (which was a royal bird and so seen as treason); another had made away with a line of sheets that had been blowing on the line in a laundress's garden; yet another had stolen a pocket watch and gold chain from a gentleman while  he was being shaved at his barber's. Several pairs of girls had, like Margaret and her friend, worked together to relieve shopkeepers of their stock and one resourceful girl had ‘bonneted' a man. This, Martha explained, meant that she, sitting high on a wall, had pushed a passing man's top hat right down over his eyes. Whilst he was temporarily blinded, she had robbed him of the large Parmesan cheese he was taking home from market.

‘Some of those crimes were ingenious,' Martha told me – not without some admiration. ‘If ever I fall upon hard times again, I shall certainly try bonneting.'

 

Once our ship was at anchor, I felt a little better. This relief was tempered, however, by the knowledge that very shortly I would have no respite at all from seasickness. The ghastly nausea, once begun, would go on for days and weeks and months on end. No wonder, I thought, that so many died on long sea journeys.

Several girls joined us from the gaols in and around Portsmouth, so that we numbered near one hundred and fifty. There would be one more stop at Plymouth, then we would be on our way to Botany Bay. Thinking of this, I stood on the deck staring at the green landscape before me, at the hedges and fields and trees, trying to impress them on my mind, until they became smudged with tears and I could see no more.

Sitting on the deck with Martha a little later, we watched the ship's rowing boats going backwards and forwards to the shore bringing provisions for the journey. So much food: types of vegetables I had never seen before, cabbages and green-stuffs growing in vast wooden trays, sacks of grain, flour and sugar, wood for the kitchen range, coal for the braziers, sacks of carrots and potatoes. To carry these provisions, temporary shacks had been built for storage in the centre of the main deck.

When darkness fell we were confined below as usual. We got little sleep, however, for Martha's baby was tetchy and cried for several hours, and this poor infant's wailing joined in jarring chorus with a hammering and a sawing which echoed across the ship and went on most of the night. In the morning when the hatches went back and we were allowed on deck, I was happy (I say happy, but 'twas not happiness, only a slight lessening of the gloom I felt) to see that animal pens had been constructed, and to know that at Plymouth we would be taking livestock on board. This, of course, only meant one thing to me: cows – and I vowed to discover who had overall care of them and ask if I could help with their milking. If I didn't manage to get off the ship, I thought, at least the cows might help keep me sane.

We sailed along to Plymouth, which was but a short journey, though still enough to make me queasy. We were to anchor here for a week, we were told, and once I was on deck I sought a quiet corner where I could wait for the cows to come on board. Martha joined me, and looking around us we marvelled at the huge number of tall ships moored on the banks, some glossy and magnificent, some with their hulls splintered or masts broken, others looking weather-beaten and worn. England, I knew, was at war with Napoleon, and there were many boats in the harbour waiting to be repaired or repainted.

A crate of chickens was carried up the gangplank, all squawking loudly, and I wondered to myself what would happen to the crate they were brought in. Would it go back to the farmer, or be used on board as firewood? If it went back to the farmer, what if someone was hiding inside it?

There
must
be a way to escape, I thought, or this was like to be the last I ever saw of my native land! I would never see my mother or father again, never make my peace with Miss Alice, never find out what had happened to Will. Before I knew it I was weeping again, and this time it fell to Martha to try and comfort
me
.

I'd dried my tears by the time Jane joined us. ‘I've been told that there are some new young officers coming on board!' she said. ‘This is the best place to see them.'

Martha – who had soon got the measure of Jane – said, ‘Officers? You seem to set yourself very high.'

‘Indeed I do!' Jane said, and when the next young man in uniform came across the gangplank she called over to say that she had a speck in her eye.

‘Then ask one of your sisters to remove it,' came the reply, ‘for a woman's touch is more gentle than any that I can provide.'

‘Not more gentle than you could be, I am sure!' Jane called back.

Embarrassed at her forwardness, I looked to see how the young man had taken this, then, horrified, ducked down so I was out of his view. It was the young naval officer I'd last seen in Bridgeford – Miss Sophia's beau!