Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [65]
‘You can come in now, Mary,’ Tench said softly behind her. ‘I have to warn you, Captain Phillip is very angry and disappointed. I don’t think you can sway him from hanging Will.’
Mary knew Tench would have done his best for her and Will, for even the hardships here, which were almost as bad for the officers as for the convicts, hadn’t changed his caring nature. Mary still had that same yearning for him, which marrying Will hadn’t made go away. In a year here she had seen many officers who were once above taking convict women into their beds, succumb to the temptation. And in her heart she knew that if Tench was to weaken, she would go all out to be with him, regardless of her marriage.
But she knew somehow that Tench never would. He cared for her, she saw it in his eyes every time he stopped off at her hut or looked for her amongst a group of women, and in the tender way he petted Charlotte. Just knowing he cared for her helped. It was something good to dream about at night, a reason to keep herself clean and neat, another reason to stay alive.
It also gave her the courage to face Captain Phillip, and the same defiant streak which had prevented her from crying out when she heard her own death sentence, rose in her as she marched into the house. She didn’t intend to watch Will hang while she still had breath in her body.
Captain Arthur Phillip was seated at his desk, a pen in his hand, as Mary came into the room.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, sir,’ she began, and bobbed a little curtsy.
Rumours went around the town that Phillip’s house was very impressive inside, stuffed with fine furniture and silver plate. But to Mary’s surprise it wasn’t even as grand as the rector’s house in Fowey. He had his desk, the chair he was sitting on, and there were a couple of armchairs by the fireplace, but apart from a silver-framed picture of a lady who was almost certainly his wife, there was little else, not even a rug on the bare boards.
Captain Phillip wasn’t much to look at either, fifty, slender and small, all the hair on the top of his head gone. But he did have lovely dark eyes, and Mary thought he wore his naval uniform well.
‘I suppose you’ve come to plead for your husband?’ he said coldly.
‘No, I’ve come to plead for everyone in this colony,’ Mary said without any hesitation. ‘For if you hang Will, they will surely all die, yourself included.’
He looked startled by such a claim, his dark eyes widening.
‘Without the fish he brings in we will starve,’ Mary continued, hitching Charlotte higher into her arms and willing her not to cry. ‘There is no one else as skilful as Will. If you hadn’t taken away his rights to take a few fish home for us, this would never have happened.’
‘That couldn’t be helped, it was an emergency situation,’ Phillip said tersely, irritated that she had the audacity to question his orders. ‘And your husband hadn’t just taken a couple of fish. He had a great deal. He has been bartering them for provisions stolen from the stores. Each time someone steals from there, it leaves even less for the rest of the colony. It is an extremely grave offence.’
‘Wouldn’t you do the same if your wife and family were facing death?’ Mary said, glancing at the picture of his wife.
‘No, I would not,’ he said firmly. ‘The provisions are rationed fairly. I only have the same as you.’
Mary doubted that, but didn’t dare say so.
‘So what good will hanging Will do?’ she asked. ‘I’ll be left to bring up this child alone, the people who steal from the stores will still do it, and every one of us will be even hungrier.’
Phillip looked at Mary, noting that she was every bit as ragged as the other convict women, but that she was clean. Even her bare feet were only dusty, not filthy as he’d observed many of the other women’s were.
Lieutenant Tench had often spoken of this woman, whom he considered intelligent and forthright, and claimed had been a good influence on the other women on the Charlotte. There hadn’t been any complaints about her behaviour, in fact he had himself commented on the Bryants