Mary's Guardian (13 page)

***

Over the next twelve months William built a sturdier hut further back from the river. He gradually dug and planted twelve half acre lots of corn, wheat and maize. He made the trek back to Parramatta and used the last of their savings to buy baby hogs, tools and seed to add to the issue he’d been given with the land grant. Some parts of the track were still almost impassable by cart due to the thick forests and creek crossings and so he was relieved when a sturdy Government store was completed at the river landing at Green Hills, just south of the lots along Mulgrave Place. Some supplies were brought from Sydney now by boat to be exchanged for the harvest of the farmers and there were a growing number of small crafts delivering materials and goods to the settlers. There were now over four hundred settlers along the banks of the river, their lands extending nearly thirty miles along both sides of the river and, despite their difficult start, William was proud to be among these first families given a chance to be successful farmers. The word was that the authorities in Sydney were pleased with the potential of the crops from these farms, in spite of the fact that some men given grants had proven to have little motivation for farming. There were frequent reports sent back to Sydney, of debauchery, drunkenness and fights with Aborigines.

‘They’re not as bad as some make out,’ Mary said one morning returning from the store.

‘Oh?’ William looked up from the garden, where he was carefully cutting their first cabbages. ‘Who’s not as bad?’

‘The aborigines,’ she said, matter of factly. ‘When I left early this morning I saw a few of them down by the river bank. On our plot, they were. I was just walking along, enjoying being out in the sunshine and suddenly there they were.’ Her voice softened.

‘Were you frightened?’

‘No…well, maybe at first, ‘cause they startled me. Seemed to appear out o’ nowhere, they did. I think I froze to the spot. But they just stood and looked and after a bit I didn’t feel afraid at all. I could see their eyes, Will. You know, I think it’s them that’s frightened. I recognised that look. Like they’re afraid they’ll lose their means of surviving. Like they’re scared they’ll be chased off or worse, and this is all they know. I remember that feeling. Back in England, that’s how we lived, Will…remember?’

‘I do, lass, and we’ll not be living like that again. So what did you do?’

‘Nothin’. I think I was just smilin’ a bit, rememberin’, you know, and then they turned and went on their way.’

‘Good. I want them to feel safe on our land. They need to hunt and gather by the river. They’ll not harm us if we let them be, I’m sure of it. It’s those who insist on chasing them off, keeping them from their food, who have trouble. I saw that young Gilberthorpe down the way throwing rocks at them last week. They reared up at him, of course. Waved their spears around in the air, though I suspect they were trying to indicate that they were simply hunting.’

‘What happened?’ Mary’s eyes were wide.

‘Nothing to speak of. They apparently talked amongst themselves for a few minutes and then left. They’re not looking for trouble, love, just food. It’s men like Gilberthorpe who are the problem. And I’m quite concerned about this new administrator, Captain Paterson. I hear he’s sending a detachment of sixty Privates of the Corps to be stationed out here, to control the hostilities between blacks and whites, they say. He’s ordered the shooting of troublesome blacks and that any caught should be hanged on gibbets as a deterrent to the others. I think that’ll make it worse. I’m not sure this one’s any better at governing than Grose was.’

‘Ellen heard the new Governor’s arriving soon.’

‘I’m glad. I don’t think these military men have been good for the colony. Reverend Johnson has had no qualms about condemning the practices of Grose and Paterson and their military tribunals. He really let fly last time he was here for a church service. Called them extortionists.’ William mimicked the flare of the preacher. ‘Said they’ve been the ruin of the colony with their liquor trade. Anyway he’s pretty happy about this Captain Hunter coming. He believes he’ll restore civil government.’

***

By half way through 1795 Mary was pregnant again but found it very hard to believe she’d bear and raise a healthy child. Especially when, in August, the river flooded again and twenty-five feet of swirling water swept away many of the settlers’ huts, storage barns and crops.

William stood at the door of their hut days later and looked out at the muddy receding waters. Broken furniture; sacks of produce; planks that had recently been someone’s wall; along with drowned animals and uprooted trees, pushed and bumped together as they were dragged back to the main flow of the river. The landscape looked like a war zone. During the worst of the flooding, Joe and Ellen had had a foot of water through their hut. It had taken William and Joe days to do the needed repairs and dry out the few bits of furniture and bedding they’d been able to salvage. William was thankful their new hut was high enough to escape getting water inside.

‘And what’s left of the crops this time?’ Mary moaned from their bed. She’d been much sicker in her pregnancy this time and could hardly put her feet to the floor till well into the morning.

‘Some,’ he murmured, scanning the garden plots and plantings beyond the hut. ‘There’s much of the land I won’t plant again. No use if this is going to be a regular happening. And it looks like it is.’

‘And what’ll be left? About half of the land we had, I’d say.’ Mary’s voice was flat.

‘Fifteen acres of good land is better than I’d ever have expected to own, lass. It’s enough to feed us and sell a bit. We’ll make do.’

Mary snorted. ‘And what did you tell me Lieutenant John Macarthur has given himself? Increased his original hundred acres over at Parramatta to two hundred and fifty, didn’t you say? Where’s the justice in it all, Will?’

‘Macarthur’s raising some good crops of corn, wheat and potatoes for the colony though. He has over a hundred goats and nearly as many hogs, I heard, as well as all kinds of poultry. Let’s give him his due, eh?’

‘Easy when he has an army of people to do all the work, of course. And a grand house for his missus with servants’ quarters an’ all, I heard. And let’s not forget the vineyard, eh? And all close to the barracks so he can pop home and see his wife and …his baby son.’ Mary’s voice slowed as she caught a lump in her throat.

‘We won’t ever be as grand as that, lass, but we will have enough, including a baby son. Now, you just rest up. I don’t want to hear any more of this negative talk. You concentrate on keeping well for our child, eh?’ He perched himself on the edge of their bed and gently wiped away the tears that had run slowly down her cheek. ‘Keep heart, my love. Keep heart.’ He watched as her eyes began to close and she drifted into sleep and then he stepped back outside and got on with his work.

***

In February of 1796 Mary gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl.

‘You had less trouble with these two than I had with my last one,’ Ellen said, handing the baby girl to Mary. ‘Look at you. Hardly out of breath.’

‘They did come quite easy, Ellen.’ Mary said, looking chuffed with herself as she examined her daughter.

‘She’s fine,’ Ellen said, ‘and so’s this one. Though he’s tiny.’

‘Are you ready for me?’ William stuck his head in the door. ‘Cause I can’t wait any longer.’ He strode across the hut without waiting for Ellen to reply. She always wanted everything spick and span before Joe was allowed to her bedside, but William knew Mary had no such concerns.

‘Oh, my,’ he gasped, taking his baby son in his arms. ‘He’s so little.’ He beamed down at the newborn, his eyes filling.

‘This is the way to do it, eh, Will?’ Mary giggled. ‘Two at a time. And they’re small because they both had to fit in the same space as one.’

‘Of course they did,’ he grinned, not taking his eyes from his new son. ‘So what will we call them, then?’

‘I thought we decided we’d call this one after Joe,’ she wrinkled her nose at Ellen cheekily.

‘Oh, Joe would be chuffed,’ Ellen said, ‘but are there no family names you’d choose?’ Both William and Mary went quiet. ‘Sorry,’ Ellen went on quickly. ‘I’m not thinking, am I?’

‘William didn’t know his parents at all,’ Mary said softly, ‘and I have no idea what my father’s name was.’

‘What about your Ma though, love?’ William ventured, though he knew that Mary didn’t like to think about her mother. ‘I know she died in the workhouse when you were young but what was she like? Do you remember her at all?’

It took a few minutes for Mary to answer. ‘She was sweet-natured, I remember,’ she said after taking a deep breath. ‘Too sweet-natured, I think. She couldn’t stand up for herself. That’s why she died, I reckon. She didn’t make enough fuss about getting her share.’ Mary’s eyes glazed over and she resumed exploring her baby daughter’s face and hands.

‘What was her name, love?’ William asked gently.

‘Elizabeth.’ Mary’s voice could barely be heard.

‘Then why don’t we call this one Elizabeth, eh? I know you’ve balked at the idea of calling a daughter Mary, though I’d happily have that name.’

‘Well, we certainly can’t be calling these two Joseph and Mary, can we? People will think we’re daft.’

‘Since when have you worried what people think? All right then, we’ll call them Joseph and Elizabeth, eh?’

Mary took a few moments to speak. ‘All right. Let’s call them Joseph and Elizabeth.’

A pretty smile spread across her face and William’s heart jumped. He thought how lovely she was when she was happy. He looked down again at his baby son and silently thanked him for making his mother so happy.

‘He’s a healthy one, eh?’ he said, beaming at Mary.

‘Jimmy was healthy too,’ Mary whispered as she stroked the other baby’s head.

‘This one’s got the fighting spirit, lass. I can see it in his eyes.’

‘Balderdash. You see nothin’ in his eyes but your own reflection.’ She smiled as she spoke.

But as the weeks passed it became clear that only Elizabeth was thriving. Joseph paled and thinned as his sister blossomed and plumped and before he was three months old it was obvious he was not going to survive.

‘There’s nothing I can do, Will. He’s withering away before my eyes.’ Mary was becoming distraught.

‘I can see that lass but it’s nothing you’re doing wrong. Look at Elizabeth. She’s bonny. You’re doing everything right. It seems to me some are just not meant for this world. We have to prepare ourselves.’ He gulped back tears and inwardly called out for God to help them get through another tragedy. He was afraid Mary might not survive further loss. And the thought of losing another son was more than he could bear to think about.

It was only the radiant health of Elizabeth and her beguiling smile that enabled Mary and William to keep from sinking under the weight of their grief when two weeks later they rose one morning and found Joseph lifeless in his basket. And so a second son was laid to rest under the large tree on their plot.

‘They’ll be together, at least.’ William wept by the small cross he’d pushed into the ground beside the first.

‘You think they’ll know each other? Jimmy and Joseph?’ Mary’s face was devoid of expression, her eyes dark and sunken.

‘I like to think of them in heaven together, Mary. I like to believe we’ll see them again one day.’

Mary nodded but did not speak. She hugged her baby girl to her chest and walked away. William followed her, praying that the hope of seeing her babies again some day would keep his wife from going insane.

The following year, when Mary had another pregnancy that barely got started before it ended, she was again distraught.

‘I’m not able to bear you a son, Will,’ she whispered one morning as they lay in bed. ‘I’m not able to give you the heir you want. All your work will be for nothing. There’s Ellen with another little one and me losing more than I bear. What’s the use of trying for more?’ She gently pushed aside his arms and rolled away. ‘You should find yourself another woman, is what you should do. There’s boat loads of ’em still coming, you know.’

‘Stop that talk at once,’ William demanded.

‘But you’d have to be quick,’ she went on, disregarding his fierce frown. ‘The free settlers want ’em all for servants. Think they’re going to be gentry out here, they do. Ruddy men! An’ Ellen told me that some of the new convict women have been assigned to look after up to ten men in the cottages at Parramatta. You know what that’ll mean for ’em, don’t you? When there’s good men like you about…just trying to make a decent life and raise sons. It’s a cryin’ shame.’

‘I said stop that nonsense,’ William ordered loudly. ‘I’ll not have you talk like that. We’ve lost another child and we’ll do our mourning. We’ll not talk of more loss and pain as if that could fix anything.’ He dragged her into his arms and they wept together until they heard eighteen-month-old Elizabeth stir in her crib beside them. She gurgled cheerfully, oblivious to their grief.

‘I’m grateful to have you, Mary, my love,’ William said softly into her red curls as she tried to rise and see to their daughter. ‘You’re faithful and good. You’re a fine woman and I’d want no other.’

‘You mean it?’ she cried, laying back.

‘You know I do.’

‘Yes, I do know it. I don’t always understand it but I do know it. I’m sorry.’ She leaned into him and sniffed back more tears. ‘I’ll be all right. Look at our Elizabeth there, happy as a lark. She gives me hope, Will.’ She sat up and checked that Elizabeth was still covered.

‘Right. Then let’s enjoy what we have,’ William said firmly. He rose up on his elbow and made a cooing sound at Elizabeth. When she gazed up and flashed him a bright smile his own face relaxed into a grin.

‘Well, at least I’d not do what that young John Fenlow’s woman down-river did,’ Mary said a few minutes later as she began to dress.

‘And how do you know about what she did?’ He feigned a frown.

‘Ellen told me.’

‘She’s full of all the gossip these days, isn’t she?’

‘Well, everyone’s talking about it. A woman lying down for their convict worker, that’s not something too many people can countenance and not talk about, is it?’

‘No one would know if Fenlow hadn’t caught them in bed and shot him dead.’

‘So you do know all about it, as well?’

‘When a man’s sentenced to hang for murder, it’s hard to hide the fact.’

‘Hmm, not a man to be cheating on, that John Fenlow, I wouldn’t have thought.’ Mary shuddered.

‘Well, he’s paid for his revenge now, hasn’t he? It doesn’t pay to let your anger get away on you, does it now?’

‘That meant for me, is it?’ She stopped pulling on her boots and looked into his eyes. ‘I’ve been more than restrained lately, haven’t I? Hardly let fly at all.’

‘No, you’ve been too ill and sad just lately and I’d rather see your old self by far.’

‘I’ll try, Will. I promise.’

***

The summer of 1798 came with a vengeance. In spite of careful preparation and the anticipation of fires, William noticed smoke coming from further down the river one morning and sensed there’d be families in trouble. He was throwing buckets into his cart when Joe appeared.

‘Did you smell it, Will? It’s coming from along to the north there.’

‘Yes, I’ve seen some smoke, Joe. Let’s go and see if we can help.’

He yelled his intentions to Mary and the two men jumped into the cart and headed across the fields. When they arrived at the far end of the river before the bend they saw the flames racing through a plot of corn which was as high as a man’s shoulder and just beginning to dry off.

‘That’ll go like a racing horse,’ Joe yelled, ‘and the wind’s sending it towards those huts.’

‘I can’t see anyone out. Surely they can smell it even if they haven’t been out back yet.’

‘We can still get around this side of the huts and get to the front to warn them. There’s nothing we can do about the fire, though. Not with this wind and the dryness of the corn.’

‘Everything’s pretty much tinder dry,’ Will agreed, as he urged his horse on. ‘This is the second summer we’ve had with temperatures over a hundred degrees. It’s been enough to turn us all to kindling. I’d be surprised if this is the only fire that we have.’

‘I’ve tried to keep all the ground around our hut really clear of anything that might ignite. We can only pray we’re spared.’

‘Let’s hope these two have kept their ground clear. That’s coming mighty fast.’ William looked across at the billowing smoke, flames now shooting out from the face of the fire and leaping into the air, hungrily licking at the heads of corn.

As they approached the front of the huts they could hear women and children screaming. Two young men were running towards the burning field with buckets.

‘Are they daft?’ Joe yelled. ‘They’ll be suffocated before they get near the flames.’

‘And a few buckets of water will be useless.’ William pulled on the reins and yelled for the men to come back as his horse reared up and came to a stop.

William jumped from the cart and went after the men.

‘Hey, stop,’ he shouted above the roar of the fire. ‘You’ll do no good.’

One of the men turned and yelled for William to help.

‘No,’ William shouted again, almost catching up to one man. ‘You can’t do anything about it, can’t you see? You have to get out of its way. Save your family, mate. Don’t be a fool.’

Both men stalled in their gallop and turned back to hear what William was saying. Their faces were white with shock. ‘Our crops!’ one called, his head spinning first to the blazing field in front of him and then back to where his wife stood, their three children huddled around her.

‘He’s right,’ the other yelled, his eyes wide with panic. ‘We can’t fight this. I’m going back. My wife’s got a baby in our hut. It’s heading that way.’ He dropped the bucket he was carrying and ran back towards his home.

Joe had already moved the cart further down towards the woman with her children. He was urging them to get in. When William and the second man joined them they quickly hitched up his cart and horse and began to throw whatever goods and possessions they could fit in beside the children, who were whimpering loudly, their mother trying to calm them.

In less than half an hour the two carts were parked under trees well out of the line of fire. The two families, along with William and Joe, sat and watched forlornly as the flames tore across the remaining field and engulfed the small huts.

‘It’ll fizzle out when it reaches the river,’ Joe said sadly, ‘but it looks like it’s taken everything in its path, I’m afraid.’

The two young farmers and their wives were speechless, clinging to each other and shaking their heads. There was little but smoke now, spewing into the air as the last of the flames ran across the grassy knoll that sloped down to the river.

‘First the floods and now fire,’ one of the men finally uttered, his voice dull and broken. ‘That’s it for me. I can’t do this any more.’ He pulled his wife close to him and stroked her hair. Her face was streaming with tears. ‘We’ll go back to Sydney, eh, love? I’ll get a job.’ She nodded wordlessly. He looked at William, his face dark with despair. ‘We nearly lost a little one in the last flood. I’m not risking my family any longer.’

‘I can understand how you feel,’ William said wearily. ‘It’s been a hard few years. We’ve all felt like giving up at times. You have to do what’s best for your family.’ He patted the man lightly on the shoulder, his heart going out to him.

‘Thank you,’ the other man turned away from consoling his wife and spoke to William and Joe. ‘We’d have been lost if you two hadn’t come along. It took us by surprise. We didn’t see it coming.’ He shook his head, still trying to recover from the shock. ‘I doubt we’ll stay as well. My wife’s not coping. I can’t keep putting her through this.’

William and Joe offered their tents for the families to use while they sorted out what they wanted to do. Other families quickly came forward with clothes and food, all of them knowing it could as easily have been them in the same situations. On the other side of the river a family had been seen being rescued by boat when a similar fire had ravaged their farm. A few days later William went back to the bend in the river to see if anything could be salvaged for the devastated families, who were now tented in one of his ploughed fields, preparing to return to Sydney Cove. There was little that resembled the cosy huts that had so recently nestled peacefully on the banks. Just two gutted frames and large patches of blackened straw.

It was no consolation when word came that the fires had been widespread throughout the colony, reducing a lot of the grazing pastures to rubble. Many of the fresh water ponds had become brackish and scarcely drinkable, again threatening the survival of the settlements around Sydney.

***

The community along the Hawkesbury breathed a sigh of relief and thanks when the rest of the summer passed without another breakout of fire, and dared to rejoice when the rains started again in the March of 1799. They knew how vital their crops were, not just for their own families but for the whole colony.

However, as William peered across his fields after the first three weeks of the rain, his heart began to sink. What had come as such a relief after the heat was now most certainly going to cause more devastation. The bare, dry land around the banks of the Hawkesbury was succumbing to the torrents that were quickly rising and beginning to flow across the fields. Even now he could see hogs and goats swimming for their lives, struggling to stay out of the swirls that would carry them downstream. When he saw a stack of wheat covered with poultry being swept swiftly away, he called out to Mary. On the other side of the river they could see the water rising up around the huts and barns until only the roofs of some were visible. Boats were dragged sideways as men struggled to steer them, trying to reach the disappearing banks to rescue women and children.

‘This is going to be worse than the last, Mary. I saw the Government store washed away a while ago. We’re going to have to move up to higher ground. I think it could cover right to the ridge.’

‘But we’ll lose everything, Will.’ Mary was close to panic. ‘The chickens and hogs? What will we do about them? And all the crops. I can’t bear this. Not again.’ Her voice was rising to a shrill pitch and she began thrashing about the hut, grabbing at pots and pans, bedding and food.

‘Keep your head, lass. We’ll put all we can in the cart and you can take it up onto the ridge.’ William ducked his head back inside their hut and drew her into his arms. ‘The natives were trying to warn us, you know. I saw them yesterday, waving their spears about and shouting. I wondered what they were trying to say. Well, now we know. You get Elizabeth packed up. Take a few other things but don’t wait too long. I’ll put some tools in the cart and bring it right to the door. I want to go and check that Ellen and Joe are right to move. Some of their stock was penned quite low and I don’t want Joe risking himself trying to save them.’

‘Please be careful,’ Mary pleaded, knowing it would do no good to try and dissuade him from going out in the thunderous rain. This was to be their life: going from one disaster to another. She would just have to accept it. After all, when had life been any different? She watched William disappear into the blackness of the afternoon as he pushed against the wind and rain, making his way towards Joe and Ellen’s hut.

She could hear the roar of the water now, rising up to the top of the bank, lapping over the ruts and dips in the land and swirling around everything in its path. There were shouts and gunshots coming from further down stream, where some settlers were signaling for help. She sent up a quick prayer to a God she realised she thought little about until times like this. Please, don’t let me have to be rescued by boat. She shuddered at the thought and drew her shawl around her shoulders. She never wanted to be in a boat again. Since the long journey from England she’d often dreamed of those nights when she’d lain awake, terrified at the thought of drowning and of ending up in the endless blackness of the ocean, at the mercy of the waves. She could still feel the horror of those times when she’d woken in her cramped, nauseating cell, a lather of perspiration, rigid with terror, haunted by images of herself thrashing about in the water uselessly. No, she would never get in a boat again. If she couldn’t walk somewhere, or ride, then she wouldn’t be going. That certainly put paid to any idea she might ever have had about going back to England, a thought which sometimes returned when she felt she could no longer continue to struggle with this unforgiving land. She pulled the door closed against the sights and sounds of the rising waters and quickly ascertained what she could take with her, making herself concentrate on getting Elizabeth and herself to safety.

William was right, she reminded herself, as she grabbed at their blankets. At least here they had their freedom. No one was trying to chase them down and haul them before a magistrate. The officers in the colony and some of the free settlers who considered themselves above those who’d come as convicts would always look down their noses at the likes of William and Mary. But, out here on the Hawkesbury, even with all its challenges, they were free of disparaging eyes and haughty stares. And they didn’t have to steal to survive. They could grow their food on their own land, shrinking though it might be. They could lay their heads on their own beds at night in the peace of their own home, at least when it wasn’t getting washed away. They’d just have to rebuild what got lost in the waters and replant whatever crops were deluged. Yes, there were things to be thankful for.