Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [145]
As the gates opened to let the cart enter, the smell hit them. It wasn’t just the familiar stench of human waste, more the certain knowledge that this really was the absolute bottom of the barrel of life.
Even James, who had joked and chatted most of the way from the docks, was silenced as the cart trundled into a small, cobbled, tunnel-like area with more heavy doors beyond. The two burly gaolers who had opened the outer gates closed and locked them behind the cart, then, picking up a cudgel each, stood by as the cart driver unlocked and pulled out the chains that had secured the prisoners together.
Mary was terrified as they were shoved into a small room off the yard. She remembered other women telling her back in Sydney Cove how the gaolers here would knock you out even for asking a question and body searches were just an excuse to humiliate prisoners. She was dreading the moment, too, when she would be separated from the men.
But there was no search, perhaps because they’d come directly from a Royal Navy ship. The only questions asked were for their names, which were duly marked down in a ledger, and after a brief wait, they were led down the passageway to another door.
There Mary glanced behind her at the men. She expected that this would be the point when they were separated. She wanted to say something, but the prospect of awaiting trial apart from them was so daunting that she was robbed of speech.
The gaoler opened the door, and the unexpected waft of warm air and sunshine beyond made Mary gasp. But if it wasn’t enough of a surprise to find herself stepping out into an open courtyard, the sight that met her was so totally astounding that she stopped in her tracks.
‘Holy Mother of God!’ James exclaimed behind her.
It might be a yard within the prison walls, but the scene within it was more like a carnival than a place of punishment. At least a hundred people were milling around enjoying themselves. The noise of drunken revelry was as loud as in any of the taverns they’d passed on the way here.
Mary rubbed her eyes, thinking it was some kind of hallucination. It couldn’t be prison, she could see no chains, no evidence of starvation, many of the crowd were even in fine clothes, men in wigs strutting around like gentlemen, women in what, to Mary at least, looked like ball gowns, bedecked with jewellery. One woman in turquoise satin, surrounded by men in velvet and brocade jackets, was actually fanning herself with a feathered fan as if she was at a private soirée.
Where were the poor wretches in chains they’d expected? The diseased, hollow-eyed old whores in rags, the pathetic young girls who had been led astray, and the scarred brutes who’d finally got their just deserts? These people cavorting, drinking and chatting certainly weren’t being punished.
‘Move along now,’ the gaoler said impatiently, prodding her with his cudgel. ‘It ain’t like you never was in a prison afore.’
‘I’ve never been in one like this before,’ Mary retorted, glancing back at the men to see their reaction. But they looked as staggered and unbelieving as she.
Drink obviously played a major part in the festivities. They could see people coming out of a door carrying brimming tankards. There were even a few women dancing a jig accompanied by a man with a black patch over one eye, playing a fiddle.
Noise came from every quarter. Mary looked up at the grey prison building and saw many people craning their heads out of small barred windows and shouting to those below or either side of them.
As the gaoler urged them forward, suddenly a hush fell on the crowd, all eyes turning to Mary and her group.
‘It’s them!’ someone shouted. ‘Give ’em a cheer!’
As wild and frantic cheering went up, Mary suddenly felt like a bride who had turned up at the wrong wedding. She saw no reason why anyone would want to cheer them. It had to be a case of mistaken identity.
The crowd were coming towards them with shouts of welcome, broad grins, and hands outstretched to greet them.
‘It’s a pleasure to welcome you to Newgate.’ A man in a