Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [138]
Mary was far too despondent to talk to any of these people and ask how old friends like Sarah and Bessie had fared after she left. She could see a kind of irony in her situation. Had she become a lag wife to Tench or any of the officers, instead of marrying Will, she would have been left behind when they sailed. A widow here, or a widow there, whichever road she’d taken would have ended the same.
Mary doubted Ralph Clark had any sympathy with her – when she ran into him on deck he pointedly looked the other way – but everyone else was kind. Captain Parker’s wife visited her once, bringing her a green and white striped dress, and a night-shirt for Charlotte. She was cool, but then Mary didn’t expect a woman of her status to be friendly. It was enough that she’d overcome her fear of the fever to bring clothes.
Mary was gradually recovering her own health, feeling a little better each day, but Charlotte continued to sink. Some days she would swallow a little soup or mashed-up fruit, and stay awake long enough for Mary to sing to her or tell her some stories, but at other times she was delirious and unable even to sip water.
It became hotter and hotter in the next couple of weeks, and Mary was told by the surgeon that other children belonging to the Marines were sick. By Mary’s twenty-seventh birthday at the end of April, five children had died and were buried at sea.
Tench came whenever he could, and his deep concern for Charlotte was very touching. He often brought messages from James Martin and the other three men, who were just as anxious about her.
‘Kiss her for me,’ Tench said, reading from one of James’s notes. ‘Tell her all her uncles are waiting to see her.’
‘Are they well?’ Mary asked. Half of her wanted to see her friends, but the other half was afraid in case they started on about Will again. But as she didn’t like to leave Charlotte even for a minute or two she had the perfect excuse.
‘Much recovered,’ Tench said with a smile. ‘Eating like pigs. James teases and flirts with the ladies. He is as much of a success with them as he was with the women back in Sydney. He is also talking about writing his memoirs, which should make interesting reading. Bill plays cards with the crew, Sam and Nat are always dozing.’
Mary smiled. It was good to hear they were being treated well too. She was also very glad they were able to put aside what lay ahead for them in England, if only for a few weeks.
During the night of 5 May, Charlotte finally gave up her long struggle and died in her mother’s arms.
Mary continued to hold and rock her small body for over an hour, sobbing out her anguish. She wound her fingers into the dark curls so much like her own, and looked back at all the milestones in her short life. Her birth on the Charlotte, her christening, first teeth and wobbly steps. But it was the time in Kupang Mary lingered most on, for there Charlotte had been truly happy, well fed for once, as free as any other child, and adored by everyone who met her.
At least now she wouldn’t have to suffer the loss of her mother when she was hanged, or be subjected to the miseries of an orphanage or workhouse. She would join her little brother in heaven.
Yet even though Mary could claim a dozen good reasons why she ought to be glad her daughter died at sea, her heart felt smashed into a thousand pieces. Everything Mary had done had been for her. Charlotte gave her reason to go on, and without her there was nothing.
Charlotte’s body was committed to the deep that afternoon with almost the entire ship’s company, the passengers and the other convicts looking on.
It was Sunday, and raining, and Mary stood bare-headed and stony-faced as Captain Parker led the prayers. She had sewn Charlotte’s body into the piece of sackcloth herself, and