Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [126]
‘I really can’t believe that of Will,’ Mary said, moving closer to him. He still hadn’t turned to look at her. ‘Tell me. Did you inform on us?’
‘They all believe I did,’ he said in a low voice. ‘So you might as well too.’
Mary caught hold of his chin and jerked him round so she could see him. She gasped. He’d been badly beaten, she assumed by the other men. Both eyes were hidden by purple, swollen flesh, his lip was cut, and his shirt was covered in bloodstains.
‘You deserve that for ignoring my warnings to keep out of sight,’ she said sharply. ‘You’re a louse, Will Bryant, a loud-mouthed, full-of-yourself, no-good bastard. But I still can’t believe you’d turn us in.’
‘I didn’t, I swear I didn’t,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I was drunk, some English sailors came in the bar, and we got swapping stories.’
Mary nodded, she could imagine it. The other men had talked about what they’d been through in their open boat after the shipwreck, and Will had to go one better and boast he’d been through worse.
Still she was furious with him – if she’d come face to face with him the day after they’d been arrested, she would have tried to kill him with her bare hands. But time, and the belief that Wanjon might still intervene on their behalf, had calmed her down enough at least to try to understand why and how Will had got them into this.
‘So, when were you brought here?’ she asked.
‘That same night,’ he said weakly. ‘I was just leaving the bar and the guards grabbed me. They took me to Wanjon early the next morning. He said you were all on your way here. He’d already got my log of the voyage from the place I was staying in. I couldn’t do anything but tell the truth, he’d got me cornered.’
Mary closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself. She felt confused by conflicting emotions. She had always cared a great deal for Will, and it was tragic to see him brought low like this. Although he should have kept his big mouth shut, she also knew none of them would have stood up to close and prolonged questioning. Their story was too full of holes.
But she certainly didn’t blame the other men for beating him. Both James and William had said he should destroy the log, and she knew exactly why he hadn’t. He saw himself as a hero, and he wanted the whole world to acknowledge him as such. Even if he hadn’t blurted it out here when drunk, he would have shouted it out sometime. The log was proof of his incredible feat. He probably hoped he could make money out of it too.
‘Why couldn’t you be satisfied with what we had?’ she asked bitterly. ‘We were safe, Emmanuel was getting better. We were all happy, for God’s sake. But you had to have more. Drink, other women –’
‘I didn’t have other women,’ he interrupted her.
Mary gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’d bet anything that you were staying with some whore. She’ll be the one that handed the log to Wanjon or one of his guards, for a bit more money than you gave her.’
He turned his head away and she knew then that that much was true. It hurt so badly that she felt sick.
‘I might not be the prettiest, cleverest woman in the world,’ she said brokenly, ‘but I was true to you, Will. Even when we were starving back in the camp, you never had to fear I would steal some of your rations, or your money. I made the best of what was there, and I should have killed to keep you and the children safe.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
‘Is “sorry” going to help Charlotte and Emmanuel when we are hanged?’ she asked, her face contorted with anguish.
‘We won’t be hanged,’ he said.
‘We will be if we get sent back to England,’ she retorted. ‘And if we get sent back to New South Wales we’ll be flogged and put in chains again.’
She turned away from him, unable to cope with the picture either of those punishments brought to mind. She would rather have died at sea than live to see the day when her