Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [36]
‘Of course I did,’ she lied, feeling sorry that he wasn’t able to accept their arrangement as she did. ‘But you aren’t free to love me, Spencer, so please don’t give me false hope by saying such things.’
She didn’t love him, she wasn’t sure that she even liked him, yet that night he had moved her, touched some inner part of her. As she made her way back to the hold the following morning, with another, newer grey dress, she wondered whether if they’d met under different circumstances it could have been different.
On the night of 6 January he called her out again, and she expected it was to tell her about the move the following day. But he said nothing about it, offered no endearments, further apologies or good wishes for her future. He just took her roughly, and curtly ordered her back to the hold. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he didn’t know what was coming for her.
It was barely light when the guards opened the door of the hold and read out the names of the women who were to go up on deck. Mary wasn’t surprised by the brusque order, but she was startled to hear just twenty names called, and some of those the old and infirm.
The reaction of the women called up on to the deck in a sleet storm was understandable. They were suspicious, puzzled and dismayed, clutching their ragged clothes about them and huddling together for warmth. Mary had to act just like them, for if anyone was to guess she knew where they were going, she’d be in trouble for not telling them. Yet as she stood there shivering on the deck, she was at least glad that Sarah and Bessie had been called, and Aggie, her old adversary, left behind.
Mary Haydon and Catherine Fryer were on the list as well, something Mary viewed with mixed feelings. They made a show of friendship now and then, but she sensed they would always be waiting for her downfall. Among forty women Mary had been able to keep her distance from them, but now the number was down to twenty it would be harder.
Thirty men were called out too, six of whom looked so sick and frail that they could barely be expected to stand, let alone survive a long voyage. But Mary was cheered to see Will Bryant and Jamie Cox among them, though disappointed that James Martin and Samuel Bird were not. Mary had grown to like all four men during her chats with them through the grille: Will and James both made her laugh, and Jamie had become like a younger brother. His crime had been stealing some lace valued at only five shillings, and he worried about how his widowed mother was managing without him. He was so mild and gentle that she was very relieved he could stay under the mantle of big Will’s protection. She hoped James and Samuel would look out for each other when their other friends had gone.
The news that they were to be moved immediately to the Charlotte came from a man Mary had never seen before. He wore civilian clothes covered by a thick cloak, and a three-cornered hat trimmed with gold braid, and seemed ill at ease addressing felons. Perhaps his nervousness was because he expected his announcement would be met with anger. And it was: the majority of the prisoners let out a wail of outrage, for many had already served over half their original sentence and had husbands, wives or children they now feared they would never see again.
As always, protestations were ignored, and the guards moved menacingly closer. Only Mary dared to raise her voice with a question.
‘Sir, are we to receive clothes for this voyage? Some of our number have little more than rags to wear, and I fear they will die of cold before we reach warmer climates.’
The man lowered his spectacles and peered over them at her.
‘Your name?’ he asked.
‘Mary Broad, sir,’ she called back. ‘And some of the women are already sick. Will there be a doctor to see them before we leave?’
‘Everyone will be checked,’ he said, but there was no certainty in his voice. He made no reply to the request for clothes.
It was dusk before all the prisoners from