Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [147]
‘I’ve had an idea,’ she said.
‘If it involves ropes and files, forget it,’ he grinned. ‘I did an inventory of our belongings before we left the Gorgon. We haven’t even got a knife between us.’
‘I’m glad you’ve still got your sense of humour,’ she said, patting his bony face affectionately. ‘That might come in handy for my idea. You see, I’ve been thinking. If we are famous, maybe we can wring some money out of it.’
Nat continued to sleep, looking like a sweet child in the dim light. But Bill and Sam sat up. James only raised his eyebrows questioningly.
‘Will thought he’d make money from our story, that’s why he hung on to his log,’ Mary explained. ‘We’ve still got all the stories in our heads. So why don’t we sell them?’
‘To who?’ he said sarcastically.
‘To anyone who cares to hear them,’ she said, feeling a little of her old self coming back now she had a challenge again.
No opportunity presented itself to Mary before it was dark, but the following morning, when she heard the gaoler coming along the row of cells to unlock them so they could empty the night bucket, she was ready.
She brushed the straw off her dress and ran her fingers through her hair as the key turned in the lock.
‘Come on, get that bucket emptied,’ the gaoler shouted, far more loudly than was necessary. He looked the way Mary remembered the gaolers back in Exeter, fat and unhealthy, with shifty eyes and rotten teeth.
‘How much for having the chains struck off?’ she asked.
He sucked his rotten teeth, eying her up speculatively. ‘That depends.’
‘Depends on what?’
‘Whether I want to or not,’ he replied, and cackled with laughter.
Mary took hold of the front of his greasy shirt menacingly. ‘You’d better want to,’ she hissed at him. ‘We’ve fought with cannibals and killed animals with our bare hands, and we’re going to hang for daring to escape from New South Wales. So we won’t think twice about slitting your throat. Now, do you want to be our friend or our enemy?’
His eyes rolled back in his head in alarm. Mary couldn’t see the men behind her, but she had to hope they were doing as she’d ordered and looking fierce.
‘W-w-what’s in it for me?’ he stuttered.
‘That depends on how you go about it,’ she said. She let go of him and smiled sweetly. ‘I want you to put the word about that we’re ready to receive visitors. They’ll have to pay of course. Enough for the shackles to come off, for food, drink and hot water to wash with.’
It was a gamble. Mary had no real idea if anyone in the prison or outsiders visiting it had enough interest in them to pay for the privilege of meeting them.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, still looking scared. ‘Did you say cannibals?’
‘I did, they had metal-tipped arrows this long,’ she said, holding her arms out wide.
‘I’ll see,’ he said, and moved back as if to lock the door.
Mary grabbed the night bucket. ‘Empty this before you go,’ she said, and thrust it at him. ‘Rinse it out before you bring it back,’ she added, ‘I don’t like the smell.’
He walked away with it as meekly as a child ordered to go and buy bread, and Mary turned to the men and giggled. ‘I think we’ve got a deal,’ she said.
By noon the shackles were off, they were eating mutton pies, and had a large flagon of small beer between them. The gaoler, whom they now knew as Spinks, was as resourceful as he was greedy, and they had already received two groups of four people, all desperate to meet the escapees and hear about the cannibals.
James was the story-teller and he did it well, embellishing the true story about the native warriors who chased them in a war canoe, to hand-to-hand fighting on land.
‘In their village they had dozens of human skulls on poles,’ James lied cheerfully. ‘We saw piles of human bones. They wore the teeth as necklaces and used human skin to cover their shields.’
After the second group left, Mary and the men dissolved into laughter.
‘Well, they could’ve been cannibals,’ James said indignantly. ‘I mean, we didn’t stay around for long enough to find out, did we?’
Mary thought how good the sound of laughter was,