The Tin Ticket_ The Heroic Journey of Australia's Convict Women - Deborah J. Swiss [58]
Fortunately, the Westmoreland survived. Between episodes of frightening intensity, Agnes’s saga unfolded with monotonous regularity, marked by the maddening toll of the bells every half hour. On some days, #253 gave thanks for having a place to sleep, recalling the nights she’d spent wandering the streets of Glasgow with Janet and Helen. Every morning at sunrise, she heard the heavy hatch creak open as the Officer of the Guard unchained the locks. A burst of light in her face signaled that it was time, once again, to put her bare feet on the slippery floor.
Temperatures rose with a vengeance as the Westmoreland navigated the tropics. A month at sea, not a bed lay empty in the one-room hospital. On September 19, seventeen-year-old Jane Thompson stumbled into the infirmary, coughing up blood. Surgeon Ellis diagnosed her with hemoptysis, a severe lung infection that he treated with bloodletting or purging. The girl who had been transported for stealing a purse spent the rest of the journey wasting away in sick bay.
Within six weeks of leaving Woolwich, the Westmoreland reached the equator. It was September 24, and she was headed southeast into the Gulf of Guinea off Africa’s coast. The winds were steady and the sky beautifully clear that morning, as Janet and Agnes rose to muster with the banging of pots and pans. The ship had crossed the equator during the first morning watch, and now that the sun was up, the crew prepared for a special visit from King Neptune. A rambunctious din exploded on the main deck when the strong door sprung open and two sailors—dressed in grass skirts, painted in blackface, and adorned with strange sigils—enthusiastically motioned the women on deck. The fully intoxicated boys were amusing, particularly because the sun had just risen above the horizon. A much grander spectacle grabbed Agnes’s immediate attention. It was King Neptune, the ruler of all oceans, incarnated by a tattooed sailor wearing the skin of a porpoise and a crown of seaweed in his hair, and holding a trident.
Blindfolded and stripped to the waist, two cabin boys and one young mate, Neptune’s pollywogs, stood ready to be initiated into this ancient mariners’ tradition. This was their first venture across the equator. Once initiated, they were allowed to pierce their ears and call themselves sailors of the Seven Seas. First, one of the “old salts” shaved their heads. Then the boys were ordered to kneel on deck and kiss Neptune’s belly, conveniently covered with a combination of grease and bilge residue. As a final insult, the initiates were forced to drink from Neptune’s cup, a disgusting concoction prepared by the crew and laced with the surgeon’s strongest laxatives. The tribute to the ruler of all oceans unfolded with elaborate and exaggerated pomp and circumstance, much to the prisoners’ shock and delight. As children of the streets, the girls found humor in the most unlikely places. Appreciating such absurdity, Agnes enjoyed it to the fullest. It felt good to giggle, arm in arm with Janet, laughing at the hapless initiates, releasing tension, and feeling for a moment like a carefree young girl.
Some captains banned the King Neptune ritual altogether, fearing a breakdown in discipline among the crew. Fortunately, Captain Brigstock maintained a fairly tight ship. He tolerated drunkenness to a point but had a hand ready to take up the lash if necessary. The captain stood at the helm, observing the festivities with detached amusement, taking advantage of the good weather, and allowing the crew and the women some levity before the final stretch of their transit.
By now, everything and everyone was for sale. When fresh food ran low, cooks sometimes sold precious remnants to the highest bidder, trading a piece of maggot-free beef for sexual