The famine orphans, p.9
The Famine Orphans, page 9
“Just ask me about anything you don’t understand.”
* * *
I kept a close watch on Mary, but her “monthlies” did not occur. I wasn’t surprised. She was still an undernourished fourteen-year-old. I was surprised, though, when I realized Lizzie’s had not yet started again. After all, she was eighteen, or so she said. In truth I thought she was a little older. She would not have been the only one lying about her age.
Later that night, in my head I replayed the scenes of girls comforting each other. Suddenly, all the earlier arguments and mistrust had disappeared, and in its place a new bond had surfaced among the orphans. Of course, we already shared the common bonds of hunger and hardship, of famine, loss, and of being thrust out into the world on a journey into the unknown, but this was a different kind of bond, not one based on shared experiences, but on the very essence of shared womanhood.
I finally realized that while nothing which had occurred on this journey was predictable, all of it was necessary to prepare us for the future.
* * *
As the Sabine sailed south, hugging the coast of Africa, we began to believe we would die of the heat. By day, we cast off as much of our clothing as allowed, including aprons, petticoats and undergarments. We would have discarded our shoes, but our feet would have been scorched on the blazing-hot deck. We begged to be allowed to take our bonnets out of our travel boxes, but Mrs. Buckley wouldn’t hear of it saying they must be kept clean for our arrival in Sydney. So we soaked our handkerchiefs in water and draped them on our heads and around our necks in a futile effort to protect ourselves from the broiling, ruthless sun. Our pale arms and legs turned a vivid red and then erupted in angry, painful blisters. Doctor Harte instructed the matrons to rub calamine lotion on them, but it did little good. Finally, he ordered lessons moved from the deck down to the sleeping quarters, ensuring the hatches were left open for air to circulate. But that was almost worse than being on deck. The heavy, stale air threatened to suffocate us. All our energy drained out and finally all lessons were called off. We moved about in slow motion, with no interest in eating. All we wanted was water!
Over Mrs. Buckley’s strong objections, Doctor Harte finally ordered our usual curfew to be extended until the heat subsided. The first evening, after supper, I went back up on deck. The heat remained, but at least the merciless sun disappeared. I watched its majestic display of oranges, reds and violets as it sank below the horizon, turning the sky on fire, and wondered how something so beautiful could inflict such cruelty.
“Spectacular, isn’t it?” Doctor Harte appeared beside me.
I nodded. “Aye, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“Hard to believe the sun can be so beautiful yet inflict such cruelty,” he said, almost to himself, as if he’d read my mind.
I glanced sideways at him, taking in his fine profile, but looked away quickly before he caught me. As always seemed to happen when he stood close to me, I felt a soft tingle ripple through my body.
“Soon you will see the moon rise before the sun sets. Also, like nothing you’ve ever seen before, Kate.”
For some days now he’d been addressing me by my first name when we were alone, as casually as if we’d been lifelong acquaintances. And, indeed, I felt as if I had known him forever. For a moment I forgot about my parched throat and itching blisters and stood beside him with a contentment I hadn’t felt in years.
* * *
With no warning it arrived one evening at suppertime, dropping through the open hatches and bouncing onto our metal plates. Something fell on the back of my neck and when I put up my hand to brush it away, I felt moisture. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Feck me, it’s raining!” yelled Patsy.
With gleeful shrieks the girls dropped their utensils and raced up the ladders from the hold, spilling onto the deck. They spun in circles, arms out and palms up, faces upturned to the sky, mouths open to taste the first precious drops of rain. Even Phoebe joined us in our communal celebration of baptism.
Several days of rain turned the heat from a blazing sun to a sultry humidity. It was still hot, but at least we were not getting burned. Our spirits began to rise. Laughter and conversation were restored and we welcomed any new distraction.
One morning, I was down on my hands and knees scouring the deck when a giant wave washed over me, and the ship rocked from side to side. From the top deck above I heard loud shouts.
“Whales to starboard!!”
And from the sailors up on the rigging, shouts of “Whales, ahoy!!”
I dropped my brush and, with a crowd of other girls, rushed over to the right side of the ship and leaned over the railing, just in time to see a huge creature jumping out of the ocean and landing on its back as if doing a somersault. I gasped. It was a whale! Doctor Harte had told us earlier that, if we were lucky, we might see one or more as we approached the equator.
“Their breeding season for the humpback whales has passed, and the males have begun to swim north” he’d said, “leaving the females behind to give birth. We are likely to see mothers and their calves.”
We had listened to him with interest, but nothing could have prepared us for the actual sight we were witnessing now. The adults had to be forty feet in length, and the smaller ones, we assumed, were the calves.
Mary came to stand beside me, holding her kitten.
“Aren’t they grand, Kate?” she said. “I’ve never seen the likes of them.”
“Aye, and them out playing with their babies,” put in Sheila, as she watched them, shaking her head in wonder.
I expected Lizzie or Patsy to make a cheeky comment but neither of them did. The magnificence of the whales had awed even the likes of them into silence.
“Now I’ve seen everything,” said Phoebe. “This is my second journey to Australia but last time I never saw flying fish nor whales! You girls are lucky. You’re seeing things most people never see in their lifetimes.”
I stood looking out to sea, long after the whales had disappeared, thinking about what Phoebe had said. The predictable, familiar life on our farm seemed to me now like a childhood fantasy. And while many of the new and unfamiliar experiences had been uplifting and wonderful to behold, I couldn’t help but worry about what else lay ahead.
* * *
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”
The voice came from somewhere above the orlop deck just before eight o’clock the night before we crossed the equator. Our mess group were on our way down to our sleeping quarters but we all stopped in our tracks and turned around.
“Who are you?” came the captain’s voice through a speaking trumpet.
“I am Neptune, god of the sea,” came the voice again. “My consort, Salacia, and I come to receive tribute from all my subjects who have not yet visited this part of our dominion!”
“Welcome!” replied the captain. “Come aboard!”
We stood transfixed as two figures appeared beside us. One was a man wrapped in what looked like the skin of a porpoise. The creature’s grotesque head rose above him from behind, making him look seven feet tall. Holding the man’s arm was a woman in a colorful headdress and gown with many petticoats. She wore gold earrings, silver chains around her neck, and the florid face-paint of a gypsy. We gaped at them as they swept past us and up the steps to the top deck. On their heels came a trio of men, their faces blackened with tar, and wearing wigs of seaweed. One was wrapped in a sheep’s skin and carried a saw, while the others sported long cattle horns and huge, hairy ears. They swung harpoons with great flourish and leered at us like demons through red-painted lips.
Mary gripped my arm, while the others looked on open-mouthed. Suddenly, Patsy broke away from us and ran up the steps to the top deck. We all followed, ignoring the rules and the stares of the private passengers who had begun to gather. I saw Phoebe among the crowd and I pushed towards her.
“What is happening?” I cried.
Phoebe chuckled. “This is Neptune, and his missus, although the missus looks more like a mister to me, and the other fellers are his courtiers. They visit every ship that’s passing the equator. See the one with the saw”—she pointed to the man in the sheep’s skin—“he’s the barber. Tomorrow he’ll shave every sailor who’s here for the first time. ‘Virgins’ they call ’em, or ‘pollywogs.’ He’ll cover them in tar, shave them, then throw them in a barrel of bilge-water.”
“Just the sailors?” I said in alarm. “I mean, we are all of us, ’er . . . virgins.”
Patsy cackled. “Don’t be so sure, Kate.”
“No, don’t worry yourself,” said Phoebe, “they don’t touch the women. And they only shave the male passengers if they don’t give ’em no money—tribute they calls it!” She paused. “And if there’s a sailor they don’t like, they might shave more than his beard!!”
I turned away from Phoebe to look up at the poop deck where “Neptune” was interrogating the captain on various matters, such as the name of the ship, number of crew and our destination. He then signaled his attendants, who fetched a barrel of tar and, setting it alight, tossed it overboard into the waves. Then they bid the captain goodnight and left the ship the way they had come.
We stood watching the flaming barrel skim across the black sea until it was out of sight. Then Phoebe turned to us. “Come on now, down to the hold before Mrs. Buckley catches sight of you. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a day to behold—mark my words!”
“Aye,” said Patsy, “should be great craic altogether!”
Before she went to sleep, Mary sat beside me in my berth, stroking her kitten. “Do you think they’ll hurt Jamie?” she whispered. “He’s the youngest of the crew and the other sailors are always making fun of him.”
I pictured the young curly-haired boy with the sweet face. “No, of course not,” I said. “I think they’re just having a wee bit of fun.”
Later, while Mary was breathing softly above me, I was restless. I wondered why Doctor Harte had not explained to us what was going to happen when we reached the equator. In the past he had prepared us for every new experience. It was one of the things I really admired about him. He was always anxious to set our minds at ease. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d been avoiding me, since it hurt to think he might be. My feelings lately were so confused when I thought about him. I tried not to dwell on them because I truly didn’t understand what was happening to me. It was all so new. How I wished Ma was still here. There was no one else I could talk to, so I kept them to myself. “Get over yourself, Kate,” I thought, “don’t be acting like an eejit.”
The next morning the ship was bustling with excitement. Neptune and his courtiers had returned but now many of the other sailors had joined them, dressed up in all manner of garb, their faces painted either black or red, so that you couldn’t identify them. These were the experienced sailors who called themselves “shellbacks”—the ones who had crossed the equator many times before. Right after breakfast they filled up barrels and buckets with water and ran about the ship grabbing passengers and other sailors alike and demanding “tribute.” Most of the passengers paid them, either with coins or trinkets, although some younger men offered themselves up to be tarred with a brush, shaved with the barber’s saw and then pushed backwards into a barrel of bilge water to rinse off, while their wives and friends cheered them on. Women and children laughed and clapped and the atmosphere was festive.
Doctor Harte finally appeared at my side.
“Quite the spectacle, eh?” he said.
I nodded.
“They mean no harm,” he continued. “The poor fellows work very hard and they need to let off some steam. The ship captains all understand that. It keeps problems and resentments at bay.”
“I see they all get extra rations of rum,” I remarked. “It’s a bit like Christmas.”
“Yes.”
I looked around for the other girls in my mess. Patsy and Sheila were openly flirting with sailors, Mary sat in a corner looking anxious and Bridie chatted away in Irish with some of her friends. Lizzie was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly I was aware of something happening behind me. I swung around to see the barber shaving young Jamie’s face. But as I watched I noticed something else. Two other sailors were holding him down by the shoulders and one of them was painting Jamie’s hair with tar. I felt my stomach drop. Jamie wriggled, moving his head from side to side as the barber brought up his saw and Jamie’s curls began to drop to the deck floor. I stiffened. Doctor Harte was still beside me, watching silently. I stole a look at Mary, whose eyes were filled with tears. I prayed it would be over quickly.
But it was not. When Jamie’s head was completely bald, the two sailors began to strip him. Soon he was naked, lying spread out on the deck. The men began smearing treacle and tar over his chest and stomach and down his legs. Grinning, the barber adjusted his sheep-skin cloak.
“Time to shear the sheep,” he crowed.
A cheer went up from the sailors.
Suddenly Mary jumped up and ran towards them.
“Stop! Please! Please leave him alone!” she cried.
The barber grinned.
“Are you his sweetheart, girlie?” He looked at the others. “Jamie’s got hisself a girlfriend. Pretty ain’t she?” He turned back to Jamie. “You been a bad boy, Jamie? It’s against the rules to have a girlfriend on the ship. We need to punish you some more, don’t we, lads!”
Traces of blood bubbled on Jamie’s chest, and he screamed as the barber drew the ragged saw across it. A sudden rage welled up in me and I rushed forward.
“Stop this right now!” I shouted. “You heathens! Leave him alone!”
The barber cackled again. “Seems our Jamie’s popular with the ladies! Dark horse, this lad!”
He pointed to Jamie’s groin. “I wasn’t going to shave this—saw’s a bit unreliable—but seeing as how he needs punishing . . .”
Without thinking I threw myself at the barber, trying to wrest the saw from his hands. As I lunged, its jagged edge ripped across my arm, but I was in such a fury I ignored it and tightened my grasp on the barber’s hand, trying to shake the saw free. Suddenly someone was behind me, pulling me away.
“Kate! Stop, Kate, for God’s sake.”
It was Doctor Harte. I tried to shake him off.
“Leave me alone!” I shouted.
By then, the captain had been alerted and strode towards us. With one look he took in the scene.
“Get away from this sailor,” he commanded, “now!”
The men released their hold on Jamie and the barber dropped the saw. Doctor Harte knelt over him and signaled the first mate.
“Help me carry him to the infirmary!” he said.
He turned to look at me. “Your arm is bleeding, Kate.”
I looked down at myself. My sleeve was soaked red.
“It’s alright,” I said, “I’ll go down to the hold and bandage it.”
“No!” His voice rose in a shout. “Come with me!”
Before I could answer, Mary rushed towards me, pale faced, her face wet with tears.
“I’m coming too,” she said.
After Doctor Harte had bandaged my arm in the infirmary I went down to the hold, where I stayed. What I had seen already had sickened me. The hatch had been left open and from the hold I could hear the shouts and singing of sailors, drunk on rum. Later, voices rose in argument and anger. Many of the other orphans became so fearful they descended the ladder, climbed into their berths and covered their heads with blankets.
“Dear Mother of God don’t let them come down here and find us. I remember how my da was when he had the drink in him. He went stone mad altogether!”
I thought about Patsy, Sheila and Lizzie and a few of the other orphans who were still up on deck, presumably having the time of their lives. I prayed for their safety.
Mary shuddered. “Please, Kate, tell Phoebe to close the hatches.”
“It won’t make any difference,” I said wearily. “The sailors could just open them up again if they had a mind to.”
I knew I should have reassured Mary, but I had no strength left in me to make the effort. I lay back exhausted.
Sometime in the middle of the night I awoke from a restless dream with the feeling I was suffocating. I had to get some air. I struggled out of my berth and stood up. To my relief, the hatches were still open. I guessed that in all the clamor of the evening, Phoebe had forgotten to signal the sailors to close them—or maybe they had just ignored her. Silently, I thanked God and crept towards the ladder, careful not to wake the others. Mary was asleep above me but there was still no sign of Patsy or Sheila. Lizzie, however, was asleep in her berth. I sighed. At least she’d had the good sense to leave them and seek what safety the sleeping quarters offered. Again, I thought back to what Doctor Harte had said—maybe she was reforming her ways after all.
On deck, all was quiet, except for the snoring of sailors who had fallen asleep on watch, and others who had slumped down in their own vomit. Stepping around them I made my way to the starboard railing and leaned over, gulping in the night air.
I looked up at the stars, searching the sky. As a child, Da had shown me how to find the North Star.
“If you ever get lost, darlin’,” he said, “just find that star up there and it will direct you home!”
I’d been too young at the time to understand what he meant, but ever since, whenever I was lonely, or upset, I would go outside and look up at the sky. The North Star was my friend and comfort.
Now, no matter how I strained, I couldn’t seem to find it in the night sky. I turned and walked to the other side of the deck. Now that we had passed the equator, I thought, maybe it was visible from the other side of the sky.
But it was not to be found. Tears welled up in me and I sank to the deck in despair. It was then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stiffened, all my senses on alert, prepared to fight off a drunk sailor.
“Kate?”
Doctor Harte’s voice was quiet. “What’s wrong?”
