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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2112927-Torture
by Woo
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · History · #2112927
Imagine being a woman convict
Torture. This journey was hell but I knew there was going to be worse to come. There was no room to move, no quiet and little air. The air stank of vomit, human waste and disease. My ankles raw from the leg irons stopping us from much movement. Rats scrabbling over everything. Many of us would die on this voyage. The Captain of The Prince of Wales allowed us to take air on deck for half an hour each day and it was whilst my turn came that I heard him. "We've been aboard 120 days and we're nowhere near landing. If the weather continues this stormy, I'll only have half those bastards downstairs to hand over to the Governor".

I was in the Woman's hold. There were thirty of us, squeezed together. Crying babies too. What kind of life were they going to have? Christ have mercy. My life hadn't been easy but at least I'd had something good to remember, unlike some of these poor souls who knew nothing of love.

Bill and I had been happy, ever since we'd first met. Living in a tiny tenement off Whitechapel, we had five children, the youngest just two years old. We managed just about to feed and clothe them but generally our life was pleasing. That is until Bill was told he was no longer needed at the factory. Work was short and it was impossible for Bill to find further employment.

"How will we cope? We can barely manage as it is. I'm taking in laundry from half the neighbours and can't do no more." I cried. Bill wrapped his arms around me and said that whatever happened we'd survive. But things got worse. For all that Bill tried no work could be found. The kids were getting hungrier by the day and my laundry work only bought in enough pennies to buy the younger ones something to eat.

Day by day I was getting angrier and more worried. Then I found I was pregnant. I thought about an abortion but would have only had to have gone to some butcher in a back street. I couldn't afford that anyway. I put off telling Bill for weeks. "For Christsake woman, what have you done?" He started drinking. Not that we could spare even the penny for a pint. I became desperate and started stealing bread from the market. Then the inevitable happened.

"Let's look what you've there please Mrs". Turning around in surprise, I found myself facing the dark uniform of the local plod. I had to look up to see his face, he was so tall. I couldn't run as I was with child and yet I couldn't tell him what I had under my apron.

"Please I beg you sir, I'm only looking to buy my Bills dinner. He's at 'ome , 'specting something to eat". Of course, the constable insisted on checking and found the stolen loaf.

At the local judisary I was shamed. Pleading that I had no choice the magistrate looked at me with contempt.
"Please sir, my children"

"They can go to the workhouse. They will be fed and schooled in the manner of a civilised society. "

"But I am with child sir"

"No matter. You are to be sent on the next ship to the Penal Colony in New South Wales to serve seven years. God save the King."

The shock overwhelmed me and I lost my legs. Some stranger came and took me away and all I can remember is seeing and hearing my Bill yelling. I haven't seen him since and worse, the children. I know I will never see them again. What will become of them?

I had and still have no idea where New South Wales is. All I know is that I have at least another month or so living in this cesspit. My tummy grows bigger and I can feel my baby kicking. I feel nauseous all the time but he is all I have left to hold onto. And I swear on my life that his will be better than mine has been.

We arrived at the colony tired, worn and hardly alive. Everything ached and I knew my time was near. My baby was my saving.

"You. You can maid for the G'vnors wife. Once you've had t'baby we'll see again. Behave yourself and if she likes you, you may be lucky enough to continue".

Other women were sent to the 'female factories' where they produced textiles, still in leg irons, working upto 18 hours a day. The men were sorted into groups and sent off in their chains to do heavy duty manual work. Their guards had whips and any man that didn't pull his weight and more were flogged. The heat was intense and they were allowed but one pint of ale a day.

Governor James seemed to be kind enough and I saw the look of pity in his eyes. His wife was docile and hated the life she had followed her husband to. She treated me well and asked me about the family I'd left behind.

My William was born two weeks later. I was put to work again after only a days rest but I saw William for half hour every day. He had been placed in the Parramatta Factory Orphanage where he would be taken care of by other women. Women I didn't know but whom I had no choice but to trust.

Governor James and his wife continued treating me with kindness and Mrs James and I would often walk by the sea. She felt sorrow for these men. We could see them in their leg irons, digging or building, smithing or breaking rocks. Life continued. But it was no life. Day came, night fell, day came, night fell.

My good behaviour had been noticed by Governor James and confirmed by his wife. Four years after I had arrived I was summoned into his office.

"You have done well Rachael and you have earnt your Certificate of Freedom. We are sending you to Albion where you will have your own small holding and can start afresh."

I didn't understand. "But why? Are you not happy with me, is that why you're sending me away?"

"No, no. Mrs James is very pleased with your work, but you have served your sentence. You are free to start again. All ex-convicts are given a fresh start and Albion offers you the opportunity to begin your new life."

"But William, what about my William?"

"William will remain here. He is learning his letters and it is not fair to uproot him." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My life here was settled, even though I knew I was a prisoner.

"No" I screamed. "I cannot leave my son."

"You have no choice Rachael. You have had it easy here compared to some, but there is always a price to pay for disobeying the law. We have been kind to you but you are still a convicted thief. You will leave tomorrow. A wagon is coming at seven to collect you and the others."

My new start the Governor had called it. I don't want a new start. I don't want to leave Mrs James and I don't want to leave William. I have left five children before. Not another. Please, not another.
1234 words










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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2112927-Torture