To Love Anew (16 page)
Her eyes followed the gentle rising and falling of the waves.
What shall become of me?
she wondered, suddenly afraid. For so long the future had stretched out, far from her reach. Now it loomed close. What would it bring?
She gripped the railing and cautioned herself against hopes for a better life. Sadness crept inside as she realized John would no longer be even a small part of her life.
“I can barely wait. Do ye figure we’ll see land soon?” asked Lydia.
“There’s no need for excitement,” Hannah said. “There’s nothing good waiting for us.”
“Nothing, mum?” asked Lottie, sounding crestfallen.
Hannah had spoken carelessly, forgetting about the dreams of little girls. “What I meant is that we don’t know what our future holds. We ought not be overly stimulated.”
“One never knows what will come,” said Lydia. “I’ve heard stories. We can and should expect good fortune. Upright conduct can bring shorter sentences.”
“Always the optimist, aren’t you,” Hannah said quietly, wondering how someone like Lydia, who’d been given a life sentence, could feel hopeful.
“No other way to be.” Lydia leaned far out and gazed down at a sea of plenty. “I’m hoping for a big chunk of fish in me soup tonight.”
Hannah felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see a white-faced Marjorie. “Corliss is doing poorly. She’s asked for you.”
“How bad is she?”
“Quite stricken I fear. She’s insistent you come right away.”
Hannah descended the stairs, returning to the fetid hold. In all these months, she’d yet to become accustomed to the stink. She held her breath momentarily but finally had to let it out and breathe in.
Corliss lay on a lower bunk. Even in the dimness, Hannah could see the pallor of her skin and the dark smudges beneath her eyes. High cheekbones that had once been attractive now added to her skeletal appearance. Hannah squatted beside the berth and rested her arms on the edge of the bunk. She grasped one of Corliss’s hands. “Marjorie said you wanted to speak to me?”
Corliss nodded.
“Would you like a drink?” Hannah lifted a tin half filled with water. Corliss struggled to push up on quaking arms. Hannah put her free arm about the elderly woman, assisting her, and held the tin to her lips.
After a few sips Corliss lay down and struggled to catch her breath. “This earthly body has failed me.”
“We’re nearly to Sydney Cove. After we get there and you’re off this ship, you’ll feel better.”
“No, child. I won’t.” Corliss smiled. “And that’s all right. I quite agree with the apostle Paul when he said, ‘To live is Christ and to die is gain.’” She squeezed Hannah’s hand. “I’m ready to be with my Lord.” Her eyes warmed. “I wanted you to know that.”
Hannah felt a flush of fear. “What shall we do without you?”
“You’ll do fine.” Corliss wheezed in a breath. “You and Lydia have each other and dear Lottie. The Lord will see to you, all of you.”
“He’s not done well so far.”
“He surely has. You’re not perceiving the truth, luv.” Even in such a state of frailty, Corliss’s eyes were lit with passion. “Our Lord sees with eyes of wisdom and knowledge. He knows the beginning and the end.” She rested a hand on Hannah’s. “Trust him. Know that he is God. And that you’re never alone.”
Hannah wanted to believe. But she didn’t. He’d abandoned her and rightly so. Still, she didn’t want to cause this fine lady distress, so she lied and said, “I believe you.”
A knowing look touched Corliss’s pale blue eyes. “You don’t. Not yet. But you will.” Her lids closed and she let out a whispered sigh. Again looking at Hannah, she said, “Do not mourn me or my life. I’ve had a goodly number of years, many fine days. Even this journey has blessed me. The Lord intended me to take it.”
She looked up and beyond Hannah. As if she were seeing someone. Her expression was expectant. Then she gazed at Hannah. “Now, you go and enjoy the fresh air and beauty of God’s creation.”
“No. I’ll stay.”
“I thank you for your tender heart, dear, but I’m weary and think I’ll sleep.”
“All right, then. But I’ll be back to check on you when I come down again.”
When Hannah returned to the railing, she stood beside Lydia and Lottie. Leaning on the balustrade, she gazed across open water. Where was the land? She so wanted to see it. The need was nearly as intense as the hunger that gnawed at her belly.
“How is she, then?” asked Lydia.
“She’s dying.”
“Miss Corliss?” asked Lottie.
“Uh-huh.”
“She told me she’s going t’ see Jesus.” Lottie placed her hands on the railing in front of her and rested her chin on her hands. “She wants us to be happy for her.” She looked up at Hannah. “But I’m not.”
“I know what ye mean,” said Lydia. “I want her to stay too.”
“Land ho!” came a shout from above.
Hannah glanced up at the platform above and then gazed across the water in the direction the sailor had been looking. Just as before, she couldn’t see anything. And then through the haze, white cliffs appeared tall and straight, looking as if they’d shot straight up out of the blue sea. “There!” she shouted. “There it is! Do you see?”
“I do!” shouted Lottie. She jumped up and down. “Are we there, mum?”
“We certainly must be close.”
Shouts went up all over the ship. Even prisoners who knew that land simply meant being moved from one prison to another cheered. At least they’d be free of the foul ship and of the sea.
Was it possible that life would be better in New South Wales? Hannah looked down at Lottie. What if they were separated? She couldn’t bear it. The little girl felt like her own. And who would look out for her? Hannah rested her hand on the child’s head. Lottie looked up and smiled, her freckles more pronounced than usual.
The sails were full and the ship moved swiftly north and west. While the women laundered, they kept watch. After a time, golden beaches with foaming surf appeared and there were trees beyond, crowding hillsides. Cliffs grew taller and steeper and became a reddish yellow.
The women moved to the railing. The crew didn’t seem to care. It had been so long since Hannah had seen land. Looking upon the wild shoreline felt like sustenance. She was enthralled.
Hannah became aware of a presence beside her. Looking up, she saw it was John. Hazel eyes met hers and Hannah’s heart speeded up. “The guards let you out?”
“We drew straws for who got to bring up the slop bucket. I won.” He glanced at a sailor whose attention was on the sights rather than on the prisoners. “And I’m glad for the crew’s distraction.”
Hannah turned back to look at the view. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
“That it is.” For a moment, he kept his eyes on hers, and then the cliffs and beaches drew his attention. “Our journey is nearly ended.”
“No. It’s only just begun,” Hannah said, unable to keep the despair out of her voice. She looked at a sailor who still paid them no mind. “They’ll order us back to our labors any moment. I can scarcely believe we’ve been permitted this much time away from our work.” She glanced at the washtubs.
“Perhaps they’ve forgotten. The crew must be impatient to see the end of their journey as well.” John smiled and his angled face softened.
Hannah wanted to lean against him, to feel his strength. She didn’t dare.
“I hope we’ll not have to say good-bye,” he said.
“But of course we will. Prison awaits us, Mr. Bradshaw. Have no expectations.”
“Perhaps we’ll see each other. Port Jackson can’t be so substantial as all that. And I’ve heard prisoners sometimes work for landowners and businesses ’round about.”
Hannah dared not allow longings to lift her hopes. “Alas, I wish you were speaking the truth, but I’m certain that what awaits us is not favorable to our friendship.” She stepped away from the rail. “It’s been a pleasure to know you, sir, but I’m sure that once we port we’ll not see each other again.” She moved away and then glanced back. “I wish you well.”
“Hannah, I pray this is not good-bye.” John smiled, his eyes touched by a hint of mischief. “I have intentions as far as you’re concerned. And I believe there will come a time . . . a time for us.”
Hannah felt a blush heat her face. “You are quite bold, sir.”
John smiled. “That I am. In London I’d never dared be so brash, but I’ve learned that sometimes there is no room for caution in such matters.” The teasing tone became earnest. “Please understand . . . my feelings are not platonic.”
Hannah didn’t know how to reply. She wasn’t at all displeased, but didn’t dare encourage the man. “We shall see, then.”
“Will ye look at that!” someone shouted.
Hannah turned to see imposing cliffs on either side of the ship. A mile or so of ocean lay between them. Like grand gates, the four-hundred-foot rock faces welcomed the ship and its cargo into an enormous bay. The ocean was the color of blue sapphires.
Hannah returned to the rail. “It’s magnificent.”
John stood beside her. “We
have
come to paradise, then?”
“If only it were true. But we dare not claim paradise, for it’s prison that awaits us.” Yet even as Hannah tried to push down hope, she couldn’t quiet the stirring dreams.
She remembered Corliss. And knew the dear woman had gone to her Father’s arms.
Lord, carry her into heaven with you.
Tears blurred Hannah’s vision as she gazed at the expansive bay with its golden beaches. She wiped her eyes clear. There were all kinds of trees beyond the shore, some large and impressive although a bit peculiar with their heavy limbs all askew. And there were tall, straight cedars too, standing like guardians.
Hannah took in a deep breath. Was it possible that happiness waited for her here?
Hannah listened to the shuffling steps of male prisoners as they were transported to longboats and their new quarters in Port Jackson. Maybe now it would be the women’s turn. The ship had set anchor in Sydney Harbour the previous day, and instead of being transported, the women had been locked into leg irons. Still they waited.
Rosalyn and some of the others who had bartered their bodies for tickets of leave paced in spite of their manacles. They’d been given no assurances of freedom, yet couldn’t quell their hope. No one came for them.
Hannah and Rosalyn couldn’t have been more different, yet Hannah felt a connection with the brash woman. They both knew what it was like to be alone and to be a captive. Now that it was nearly time to disembark, Rosalyn expected a ticket of leave. Hannah was almost certain it wouldn’t happen. She approached her.
Rosalyn shot Hannah a defiant look. “I don’t need yer sympathy.”
“And I can’t help but offer it.” Hannah tried to think of the right words. “I have sympathy even for myself.” She glanced around the hold. “For all of us.” She took in a breath. “What’s happened to us is grim. And for many it’s been a great injustice, but there’s nothing to be done about it. We simply must endure.”
“I’ll do better than endure. I’ll be free. Ye’ll see. I’ll have me ticket of leave.” Rosalyn set her jaw.
“I pray you’ll be rewarded with freedom. But you know it’s unlikely.”
“Ye may have given up hope, but not me.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Ye’ll see yer wrong.”
“I hope I am,” Hannah said, for Rosalyn had paid dearly for her expectations.
That night seemed especially dark and unbearably long. Hannah couldn’t sleep. Finally when the first light splintered through gaps around the hatch, the door was flung open and the women were ordered above decks.
With Lottie’s hand in hers, Hannah took the steps steadily and as quickly as her shackles would allow. She didn’t look back. The hold was a place she never wanted to see again. Yet, she knew memories of the miserable days would go with her.
Thirty-five of the original fifty-six women who’d been transported from London remained. They were weak and many were sick, but they managed the climb down the rope ladder to waiting longboats. Hannah, Lydia, and Lottie settled onto bench seats.
Acting brave for her eight years, Lottie sat with her spine straight and her hands tightly clasped in her lap. She kept her eyes on the ship as they moved away. When they’d made it nearly halfway, she grasped Hannah’s hand.
Hannah couldn’t take her eyes from the vessel. It looked ugly, its rigging disorderly. The hideous craft had been home for months, and as wretched as it was, it felt peculiar to be free of it.
Hannah glanced at the dock where three soldiers waited. She suddenly felt afraid. What was to become of them now? Rumors were that treatment at Port Jackson could be worse than what they’d experienced on the ship.
“Look, mum,” Lottie said, standing up.
“Sit down! Yer ’bout t’ tip us,” a sailor snapped.
Sitting, she leaned close to Hannah and whispered, “There’s a town. A real town.”
Hannah gazed at the colony. Port Jackson was more than she’d expected. A sizable settlement huddled along the bay and spread out and up along bordering hillsides. Businesses sat at the edge of the harbor. There were houses just beyond. What looked to be government buildings stood farther back, and on the hill there was a cluster of huts and a sandstone building. She guessed that to be the gaol.
She looked back at the bay. Although she’d longed to escape the sea, she’d become accustomed to it. Waves bucked the boats and a breeze cooled her sun-heated skin. Port Jackson would now be her home.
There were trees covering nearby hills. She liked that. During the long months at sea, she’d dreamed of trees. She breathed deeply, hoping to smell vegetation, but the pungent odor of the harbor overwhelmed everything else.
“Will ye look at that,” Lydia said. “Those men are black and nearly naked.”
A group of black men stood on an outcropping. They watched the approaching boats. Hannah wondered if they were friendly.
“I never seen anyone like that before,” Lottie said. “Do ye know what they are?”
“People, of course,” Rosalyn said.
“I know they’re people. But what kind?”
“The black kind,” Rosalyn teased.
Lottie leaned close to Hannah. “Will they hurt us?”
“Certainly not. If they were hostile, I’m positive they wouldn’t be standing in the open that way. They look quite peaceable.”