By Rebecca Morgan
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Waves hit against the side of the Friendship. Slap. Slap. Slap. We are an invader in their domain. My stomach roils, and I clamp a sweaty palm over my mouth. I wouldn’t lose much in the way of food if I retched, but it’s the principle of the whole thing. The ship pitches forward, and one of my fellow prisoners gives in, spewing his stomach contents over the floor. Eight months being on this bloody tub, and we still can’t keep anything down.
One of the girls squeals in disgust, but there’s no room for her to move below deck. Stuck in place, the ship’s motion carries the mess down in her direction.
“There, deary.” Maud, the old lady in our midst, pats the still-retching boy as the stench weaves among us. But we’re used to the reeking hold. Noses dead to the wholesomeness of a fresh rain. To love and flowers blooming.
“What are each of you here for?” A man questions. A man whose name I don’t remember. Time, names… It’s all a muddle of endless days that blur into nothingness till our hearts can’t bear the weight of what was. He blinks in that slow way of his, eyes dim from lack of sun and life.
Ah. I remember his name now. Jack. Around my age. Too young to be here, old enough for stubble to show. He’s one of those annoying cheerful types that always think the sun is shining.
“We know already,” an old man at the end grumbles. His teeth are stained from tobacco. Body shaking from the lack of his life support. “There’s no need to rehash what’s been.”
Each of us has the same elements woven throughout our story. Injustice. Indifference. A blight on a country striving for a utopia. And utopia doesn’t have the likes of us. We are cheap labor, here to build on what James Cook himself found. Paradise. To expand His Majesty’s Empire while being forgotten by him.
“A spool of thread. That’s why I am here,” Maud declares, the top layer of her statement filled with pride. But beneath it, her voice breaks, unraveling piece by piece. Ripping the fabric of her life apart. All for a spool of thread.
A boy wipes a hand across his snotty nose, smearing yellow mucus. “My sissy.” His sob cracks. Shatters the thick air. “I only wanted a ribbon for her birthday.”
A sister he will never find again. After his seven years of labor have passed, he likely won’t even remember her.
He sobs again, and my heart hardens against the sound. There’s been too much to let pity settle there. All of us have problems. I’m here for stealing a loaf of bread for a starving child. And now that child is dead.
Maud reaches a wrinkled hand to pat the boy with the snotty nose. He leans into her touch, sobs quieting.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
“I already played my Benefit of Clergy card,” Tobacco Man says. “If I had stayed on the right and narrow, I wouldn’t be here.”
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion, blot out my transgressions.
I learned on the streets the code to escape punishment. Then I met the child. And I was caught. The judge did not have mercy.
The hatch opens above, and we inhale the sea breeze, starving for fresh air. The sailor known as Oliver climbs down into the hold, stale crackers and moldy cheese in his hands.
“Evenin’.” He smiles as he hands out the food. I watch as he slips the boy with the snotty nose an extra piece.
“When’s our hour above?” Tobacco Man snaps, snatching the food from Oliver. The crackers crumble in his hands. Fall to the floor. Rats will eat them later.
Oliver shakes his head. “No hour today. Cap’n Phillip says so. Landin’ soon we are.”
The fresh air is snatched away as every last one of us inhales sharply.
“Lovely.” Tobacco Man spits, the wad coming clean and white. His face clouds in disappointment. “The aboriginals can kill and eat us. This purgatory will soon be over.”
“Eat us?” The boy with the snotty nose cries. Maud pulls him into her lap, smoothing his lice-infested hair. She gives Tobacco Man a glare that would frighten St. Paul.
Landing soon. After eight long months, we, the First Fleet of eleven ships, have made it. Have reached that mysterious land we only know as “the promised land.” A land of food and lush vegetation. Fish. A harbor with clean water. Sun. Fresh air. The likes of things we never saw in London.
Hours later, Oliver opens the hatch, grinning. “Come on up. It’s time.”
We climb the ladder to the deck, legs shaking in joy and fearful anticipation. Oliver reaches out a hand to steady us as the sun blinds our eyes.
The delight that surges in me quickly fades as I survey the withered, burned land. The hushed whispers around me rise to a crescendo worthy of Beethoven.
“Where is the green?” Maud shrieks, voice snapping over the still water.
Water I now see is brackish and repugnant, a far cry from the crystal blue we were promised.
Sailors point over the edge, and I carefully lean over the railing. “No stingrays, mate.” One of them swats my shoulder. “Water’s too shallow to anchor close. Cap’n Cook’s a liar.”
“It’s hot as Hades.” Tobacco Man spits, then seems to regret relieving his body of the moisture.
He isn’t wrong. The sun burns down hot and repressive. Air devoid of any breeze. Captain Phillip, the man who had filled us with such hopes, paces the deck, his jaw ticking. Muscles taut. Confusion and horror distorting his face.
The boy with the snotty nose cries for his sister.
Tobacco Man spits again.
Maud curses.
Happy Jack smiles.
Dread and fear settle in my stomach.
Oliver grins. “Welcome to Australia.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I love history! You caught me. I want to know the rest.
Rebecca, this is very visual. As I was reading, I was thinking how beautiful your writing is even with such a dire reality for these passengers. I loved how the lady cared for the snotty boy. And the disappointment of everyone of the seemingly terrible, sad reality of this place where they landed. I still have hope for them though. All is not always what it seems to be at first. I hope there is some joy and beauty and love as they delve deeper into this new land despite what it appears to be.
Thank you for wetting my interest to read the rest of the story.
You should apply to join the Daughters of the American Revolution Chapter of Franklinton. – Oushola Chapter, NSDAR. Go to dar.org to find out more. That is the national site.
Hugs, love and prayers!
Connie, your words were so special and meaningful to me. You’re right, nothing is always what it seems to be at first. I’m so glad you enjoyed the story.
I’ve heard about how Australia was populated, but you really made it come alive. Great story!
Thank you!
I was on that ship with them all! The emotions were very strong. Great details, too!
Thank you!
Nice work creating the setting in the hold.
Thank you!
You did a great job of setting the mood and bringing the reader into the situation! I could feel the different reactions as the prisoners realized the reality of their new “home”.
A very cool insight into Australia’s population!
You truly brought your characters to life. Great story!