Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [68]
It was later that day, as Mary crouched by Will’s side in the small hut, gently bathing his back, that she considered her old vow to escape. She hadn’t thought of it once since her arrival, and now it seemed incredible to her that she had begun to accept this terrible place, even to like it. But she couldn’t bear it any longer. Somehow she was going to get Will and Charlotte and herself away from here and do so as fast as was humanly possible.
Chapter seven
‘Move over, Mary,’ Sarah hissed in the dark. ‘You aren’t in bed with Will now.’
Mary half smiled, wishing she was in bed with Will, back in their own hut. But however cramped it was sharing this hut with five other women, plus Charlotte, she was very grateful to Sarah and her friends for letting them stay. In cynical moments she put their kindness down to her being back on their level. But mostly she preferred to believe that Sarah, at least, had had such a shock at seeing Will’s flogging that she had regained her old standards of compassion and generosity.
Will was in a hut with James, Samuel and Jamie, and Mary hadn’t had many chances to see him since the day of the flogging, as he’d been sent to work on the brick kilns the day after. His back still wasn’t healed. Mary was incensed at the further cruelty of forcing a man to do hard physical work when his back was torn to shreds. She had gone to meet him after that first day, and she’d cried at the sight of him. He was dragging himself along, his shirt soaked in blood, his face contorted with the pain. He went into the sea for a swim, hoping that would heal it faster, but he could barely move his arms, and his face went so pale that Mary thought he was going to pass out again. The wounds didn’t heal with all the bending and lifting, and dirt and dust had got into them and caused infections. Will was scarred for life now, both physically and mentally.
It seemed to Mary that she was in a dark tunnel without even a chink of light at the end of it. She’d been separated from her husband and lost her hut; rations had been cut again, even more people were getting sick and each week the death toll increased.
It had once been the custom that all work stopped for a funeral and everyone attended, but not any more, otherwise no work would ever get done. Death was commonplace now, no more remarkable than a reported theft or accident. Word would go round that Jack, Bill or Kate had gone, but the only real interest was in who would get their personal effects. That was, if they hadn’t already been stolen even before the man or woman passed away. Children’s deaths had even less impact; to everyone but the mother it was just one mouth less to feed.
Mary had been pressed into laundry work the day after Will’s flogging. Although washing the officers’ and Marines’ clothes wasn’t particularly hard work, the vigilance required was exhausting. Shirts were at a premium and if left to dry unguarded, would be stolen by other women. But it was always the laundress who was punished if a shirt went missing, even if she wasn’t found with one in her possession.
Only the thought of escape kept Mary going now. It filled her mind from dawn till dusk, distracting her from hunger, the funerals and the depravity all around her. Four women had run off into the bush, but they were soon recaptured; others who escaped were either killed by natives or died unable to find food and water; sometimes their bodies were found later. Many more just returned with their tails between their legs, only to be put back in chains.
Mary knew from Tench, who had done a lot of exploring inland, that there was nothing there to run to, just mile after mile of barren bush land. Some men had stolen a boat a while ago, but they weren’t sailors and capsized it and were soon picked up.
But Mary was familiar with boats and sailing. She knew she’d need a sextant, a great deal of provisions, and charts of the waters around here. Above all, she needed to know where the nearest civilization was, and find a boat suitable for rough