Weatherwood

March 1813 HMS ‘Jocasta.' Thames Docks, London. Liz leaned over the rails of the ‘Jocasta,’ watching the wagons that rumbled over the timber docks to offload more women who were being herded and pushed up the gangway to board the convict ship bound for Botany Bay. Look at ‘em all, she thought, just like me, ain’t done no one no ‘arm, just a bit of stealin’ t’ keep body ‘n’ soul togever, but we ain’t goin’ t’ see London again that’s for sure. Still I dunno, could be good. On the other hand May, her friend and cohort in crime and older than her by six years, was anything but pleased. To be dragged scratching, biting and screaming away from her beloved London and transported into the unknown was sheer hell, and she had taken to sulking once she realised she could change nothing. Liz was tiring of her and watching the new women arrive was her way of ignoring May and her misery. A new wagon lumbered over the cobblestones and timber dockside, to roll into view. This seemed full of generally older women, well older than Liz, any woman older than her 18 years, was old… May was positively ancient at 24. Liz had just about lost interest when her eye caught sight of a likely candidate for a travelling companion on the long sea voyage, an officer with a comely smile and more in his britches than was at first obvious, as Liz’s practiced eye discerned. But then she turned again to the sorry gaggle of women as they were pushed up the gangway. Among them was a young lass, younger than Liz and ‘pale as a corpse, near fading away’ as Liz described it later to the surgeon Dr Jacobs. “Hey, you see that, May?” Her hand shot out and shook May’s arm. May roused from her self-reverie, “Wot?” “That whisper of a female vere. See? Jus’ goin’ up the plank now.” “Wot abou’ ‘er?” May leaned over the rail, squinting. Her long black hair hanging down in rats’ tails past a face that would be comely had it not been so sallow and full of self-pity. “She’s goin’ ‘a drop in a minute, you mark my words.” As the girl reached the deck that is exactly what she did and Liz was over in a flash. “’ere, ge’ outa it,” as she pushed a couple of guards away, “She’s sick carn’t ya see? Call the fella ‘oo says he’s a surgeon.” She dropped on the deck beside the girl and cradled her head in her lap. “‘Ere, come on you, no need to go all queer like that.” She put her hand on the girl’s forehead, “Hey she’s burnin’ up… come on where’s that surgeon fella?” With that the crowd of men and women gave way to a rotund and somewhat breathy bloke who arrived in a rush, his pince nez still perched on his nose apparently forgotten. Liz looked up at him and had him summed up in a flash. “You gotta ‘elp ‘er sir or she won’t make it to Botany Bay, that she won’t.” “Hmmph,” he tried to get down to look at her but was unable due to his rotund girth. “Get her down below, I’ll see her later.” “La’er will be too late Sir, ‘ow abart your cabin? I’ll make it worf your while?” Her roving eye took in his close-fitting breeches and decided he would present no problem… the promising officer would come later. Liz felt his eye turned on her. She knew that her bright red hair and wicked sherry gold eyes promised delights. She could feel his approval as she pushed her hair off her face, but also knew that if she proved no good he would send them both packing down below and damn them Liz looked down at the unconscious girl. Her brown hair was filthy and stuck in strings around her sweaty face, her eyes were closed, and her pallor was the grey sludge of the prison hulks. She smelled of them and had Liz been of less stern stuff she would have got up and walked away. Instead, she pulled one of the guards down, ordered him to pick her up and follow her. She had such a commanding air about her the young man did as he was told without thought. With a swish of her prison-stained skirts, Liz led the way, following the lumbering, reluctant surgeon back to where he’d been rudely interrupted, removing his pince nez on the way. Once back in his cabin, with a fart, he relaxed into his chair. As soon as she arrived Liz spotted the smaller cabin with an adjoining door off to one side, she looked around, that'll serve. Is this where ‘e sees ‘is patients ‘oo ain’t convicts? It had a narrow bunk so she ordered the young man to lay the girl down there. The surgeon rose and took a disinterested look, wrinkled his nose with disgust and turned away. “You want her, you clean her up and care for her. If you do that I’ll see what I can do.” He turned away and left the cabin, slamming the door behind him. With a wave of her hand at the young sailor, Liz ordered hot water, cloths, and some fresh clothes for them both. The items arrived and Liz quickly stripped and washed, dressing again before pulling the girl’s clothes off and washing her as best she could. Gawd, where’s she bin? In the ‘ulks no doubt, stinks like it. Blazers ‘ow am I goin’ to get ‘er clean? “Come on lass, ya carn’t go dyin’ now” The new girl’s fever seemed less. Liz tossed the discarded clothes out on the deck. Food arrived no doubt thanks to the young man who’d carried the girl into the cabin. She ate her own fair share then tried to get the girl to eat something, but failed. Looking around, she found some wine on the surgeon’s desk, helped herself then the girl to some. Before long a faint pink blushed her face and Liz felt she was on the way to saving her. Later she found one of the women who’d arrived at the same time and asked her the girl’s name. “Charlotte, she is. ‘ Ow’s she goin’?” “She’ll do for now. Not much to ‘er tho is vere.” “Naw, she’s bin sick for a long time, locked up on the hulks like we wuz, surprised we ain’t all dead.” Later that night when the long day was over, Liz settled Charlotte with some gruel which she sipped without interest, “Come on lass, ‘ave more. No time to give up y’know.” Once done, she made herself ready for the surgeon. Well, Liz girl, as she eyed the bunk with the rumpled linens and rugs, at least you’ve made yourself a bed you can sleep in if you get this right. Never bin in a ship’s bunk afore, wonder wot it’s like to tup when the ship is rollin’ around? She chuckled at the thought. Pulling the linen straight, she pumped up a pillow, and took her dress off. Wonder if he’d fancy strippin’ me or would ‘e like me served up like one of his roasted piglets? Hmm… we’ll see eh? By the time the surgeon entered his cabin, he was bemused to see Liz waiting for him. “What’re you doing here?” he grumbled. “I think you know sir, I look after ‘er in there and in return I tups ya when you wan’ me.” He eyed her up and down and smiled, looked down at his girth and asked, “And do you think a small chit like you can deal with a rotund fella like me?” She smiled so her face crinkled and her eyes sparkled with amusement, “No trouble at all sir, men comes in all shapes ‘n’ sizes I’ve found.” His hands reached out for her shoulders and he pulled her to him, holding her head and kissing her soundly.