One Night in Sydney Cove

"Well, what are you gawping at," Charlotte asks Private Hayes with a hint of humour in her voice. "Never seen a woman before?"

The Private's face breaks into another grin. "I seen plenty of women but never such a wretched bunch of soaked wenches as yerselves." He smiles and lights the candle-lantern on the small table near the tent's entrance, then begins to wipe the water from his musket with a small cloth, stroking the cloth up and down the length of the gun's barrel.

"Looks like you know what you're doin' there, Private," Charlotte says mischievously, "rubbing your hand up and down the length of your weapon."

"I've had some experience with long guns." Then with a smile he tosses the cloth to Charlotte. "May's well dry yerself before you catch yer death."

Looking quizzically at the small cloth, Charlotte says in as posh voice as she can muster, "Much obliged kind sir. This tiny cloth will dry my hands, I'm sure."

"Take what you can get, miss, because this is all we's got at the moment." And then he grins and finishes with a slight bow, "My lady."

Charlotte grins back. "Youse is all we's girls got at the moment so I guess youse will have to do."

"Youse," the man emphasises the word and smiles, "could do a lot worse than us lot. A lot worse." He then turns his attention back to maintaining his Brown Bess. The rest of us women know something is afoot and Charlotte's always been more forward with the seamen and Marines than most of us.

"Char, you horny strumpet," Elizabeth whispers with a twinkle in her eye. "You don't waste yer time, do ya!"

"Waste not, want not, is what I always says." My companions giggle and I join in, self-consciously, not completely understanding what Charlotte meant, but knowing she's referring to the Marine Private now standing by the door of the tent, peering out into the gloom as she stares at his back. The man is silhouetted as each flash of lighting lights up the sky with increasing frequency, almost every couple of seconds now.

Charlotte dries herself as best she can with the small cloth and passes it to Elizabeth. I look for reassurance from my other companions, and Jane Fitzgerald who'd fainted at my feet earlier glances back at me for a moment and I know she's doing the same as me, then her eyes leave mine and dart to the tent door where the Marine now stands guard. She's clearly the most jumpy of all of us, flinching severely at each crack of thunder.

Mary Cleaver, my closest companion on board the ship, managed to find her man, John, and slipped away from us as soon as Captain Tench turned his back, and I feel a little lonely for it. I think of her and hope she and baby James are safe. Ann Beardsley, who is a lovely girl and also my friend, is not as strong as Mary, and I can tell she is yearning for her Marine lover, who is so close to her, standing guard outside our tent, yet so far from her grasp at this stage in the evening.

I suppose I've come to accept my fate, whatever it will be, as lighting and thunder crash about outside. But I fear the men because I have seen their brutality. I look again to the Marine standing still at the entrance of the tent, staring into the dark, and he is suddenly illuminated by multiple lighting flashes and the crack of thunder above us is deafening.

"Hey, soldier?" Charlotte calls out to the man from where she sits beside me, "I'm gut-foundered and reckon I'll eat me mates here if I don't fill me belly soon. Where's the fancy meal ya fine officer says you'll make for us?"

The man turns to Charlotte, thrusts his pelvis forward and grins. "I've something to fill yer gullet with if you give me half the chance."

I'm repulsed by his gesture but to Charlotte it's a game she knows well and appears to enjoy. "I dunno 'bout that, because if you're like the lads who rode with us on the Charlotte, I reckons all you've got is but a mere morsel."

The Marine smiles, walks across the tent to Charlotte, looks down at her and whispers loud enough that I can hear him clearly too. "I think you're mistaken, because rumour has it I supply the most meat in the fleet."

Charlotte looks up and simply states, "Doubt it." But she's grinning now.

The man undoes his trousers, a foot or so from where I sit, and pulls out his enormous maypole-like member, bigger than any I've seen, and presents it right to Charlotte's face. I stifle a gasp with my hand to my mouth, and for a brief moment I see Charlotte's eyes are wide in the dim candle light, but in an instant she regains composure and says, "Is this all you've got for me?"

He puts his manhood away with a laugh and states, "It's all I got, my lady, and you're most welcome to it if the occasion pops up." He gives her a wink and a smile and turns, winks at me too, then makes for the small table near the entrance, under which he and the other three Marines placed their haversacks. I feel my face redden as I watch him pick each bag up to the light of the candle in the glass lantern, where he delves inside them. "I'll see what else I can put together for youse in the meantime. Just a little entrée appetiser for the main course."

The Private pulls lumps of bread and some dried peas onto the table, and Elizabeth comes up beside me as more lightning and thunder assaults us. "What a treat this meal will be," she whispers sarcastically in my ear. "The bread looks like it were only baked last week!"

"If only he'd slap his meat onto it for extra flavour," I whisper back with a giggle, pretending to be one of them again. "Along with his two giant peas and we'd have a feast!"

Charlotte still watches the Marine, who is smiling to himself, despite pretending to ignore us, and whispers close to my ear, "I saw 'im first, Hettie, so I bags dibs."

The Marine finishes breaking the bread, giving us equal portions, and almost looks apologetic about the dried peas. When he reaches Charlotte he pours the peas into her hand and whispers, "I'm saving the salty pork for the main course, and don't tell your friends here, but it's all yours, if you so wish."

"You go back to caressing that long gun of yours and I'll tell you if I needs any meat with me meal." I can tell Charlotte is trying to keep a straight face but she's struggling, with a grin forming uncontrollably at her mouth, and the Private gives her a smile in the candle-dark and turns, walking back to the tent's entrance.

Elizabeth leans across me and whispers to Charlotte, "You saucy harlot," and receives a grin in return.

Lord in Heaven this bread is stale, but at least I can't see any maggots, and it fills a hole in my belly. The peas are adequate and as good as can be expected here on this foreign soil. I watch the Marine, who breaks a little bread for himself, leaving three equal portions for his comrades, and he looks back at us with a mischievous grin in the dim candle light.

"This bread's the shit the rats won't even touch," He says, "So you ladies must be the most ravenous bunch of wretches to ever walk this God-forsaken land."

"Seems to me you four are the Marines no whore would touch so you got the duty with us." Elizabeth spoke with a mouth full of bread.

"I never wanted to touch you whores anyway."

Charlotte chuckles. "That ain't true now is it, Private? You were the one bragging about your giant piece of meat and wanting to slap it into my mouth before, weren't you?"

"Your mouth was watering for it. I could see it in your eyes."

"You must be dreaming. What's your name, anyways?"

The man's laugh is genuine. "Private John Hayes, Madam."

"I'm Charlotte and this here is Henrietta, Elizabeth, Jane, and Ann. And I seen the way you looked at Hettie, but don't let her quiet nature and pretty face fool ya though, boy, because she killed a man who done her wrong. Anyways, I think your Captain has a thing for her so you be best sticking with me tonight and I'll keep ya safe."

Charlotte gives me a sly wink and I open my mouth in protest, but there's no point and to be completely honest, I've come to enjoy my reputation among the convicts, even if it was so far from the truth, and so I no longer deny it. Partly because it gave me acceptance among these hardened rogues, and partly because it's generally kept me safe, with only the bravest men approaching me.

And yes, I liked Captain Tench, admiring him greatly, but though he were one of the few officers to give me the time of day without asking for more, where he'd occasionally strike up a conversation and ask about my wellbeing, I dare not think he has affection for me, a mere convict lass, when he is an officer of the Marines.

"Well," John speaks, his own mouth half full of stale bread, "it's a pleasure to meet you ladies. I'd like to say we'd put on nice weather for you but this storm is about as fearsome as they come. Sorry about that."

"A bit scared of the thunder are ya?" Jane asks, and as if on cue a flash of lighting and crash of thunder engulfs the darkness in bright light, causing all to jump out of our skins while the rain beats down on the canvas with increasing vigour.

John grins at us. "I'm less scared of the thunder than you lot are. Jumped about a yard into the air just then, you did!" And as he finishes talking, another flash of light with instantaneous crash of thunder causes him to jump. The silhouette of a big man appears in the entrance to the tent behind Private Hayes, putting his hand down hard on Hayes' shoulder, causing him to jump even further and Jane gives a little shriek, and I cover my own mouth too, my heart leaping in my chest.

"A bit jumpy tonight, John? These women giving you a hard time?" It was the Corporal whom Captain Tench has left in charge of the picket-line.

"Jesus, Nathan," was all John says in reply.

The Corporal smiles at us. "I see John here has been all hospitable and shared our bread with you. I trust you have no complaints about your accommodation for the night?"

"I could do with some salty pork sausage," Charlotte says, and Elizabeth covers her mouth with her hand, barely hiding her snigger.

The others are speechless so finding my voice I tell the man, "I think we're fine. Thank you very much for your kindness." By God the Corporal looks handsome in the dim light of the candle-lantern, with a strong face and broad shoulders. His red uniform appears drenched, ever worse than our petticoats, but he looks to be smiling none-the-less.

"I'm glad to hear it," the handsome Corporal replies, giving me a warm smile. "I'm Nathaniel Bowers. You already know John, and out there in the pouring rain is Will and our other John. I believe you are already acquainted with Private McCarthy, madam?" This last sentence he directs at Ann Beardsley, who smiles and nods in reply. Acknowledging her reply with a smile of his own, Corporal Nathaniel Bowers reaches for his ration of stale bread from the table and shoves it in his mouth while Charlotte introduces us again. I can't help but look the Corporal up and down, liking what I see and noting how he drips rain water from his soaking red coat on the bare ground, and how he watches me, catching my eye.

"Need to dry yerself, Corporal, before you catch yer death," I say, flinging the tiny wet cloth to him, covering the fact my cheeks have flushed again, thought I doubt he'd be able to tell in the low candlelight.

Despite the lantern's glass, the candle flame flickers as Corporal Bowers catches the cloth, but places it on the table next to the candle-lantern and gives me a smile. My cheeks are still warm, which I really hope isn't noticeable in the dim light. "Thank you, but I have to go back out there," he tells me, and I feel the heat prickling at my cheeks when his gaze lingers on me for a moment longer. He then turns to John Hayes. "Head out there and send Will in for his ration. McCarthy can come in later and catch up with his woman. Even if the lags are creeping past us, there's not much we can do tonight with this dastardly storm. Hopefully the Major put sufficient guards on all the stores tonight."

"Aye," the Private answers. He turns briefly towards us, searching out Charlotte, and gives her a private smile before he turns and walks out under the awning protecting the guards from the rainy darkness, a flash of lightning illuminating his silhouette and we see him flinch at the thunder-crack.

"I'm sad to see 'im go. But it was getting too steamy in here." Charlotte's fanning herself with her hand and we all have a giggle.

"Nice to see you enjoying yourselves, ladies," the Corporal speaks with a grin, then plops his bread into his mouth.

"I think you're enjoying yourself, Corporal," I say. "Put in charge of us women for the night."

He smiles at me and speaks while chewing, a crumb falling from his mouth onto the sandy floor. "My lady, it is a true pleasure to make your acquaintance, so yes, I am enjoying myself."

Jane Fitzgerald leans into me and whispers, "He likes you. Such a 'andsome lad he is too."

Charlotte and Elizabeth chuckle, and I can feel my face burning bright as the handsome Corporal continues to smile at me as he swallows his bread. Another flash and thunder-crack outside, but the storm appears to be moving down the harbour, toward the direction of the sea. The Corporal finishes his second morsel of bread and another Marine Private enters the tent.

"Just in time," the Corporal tells him. "Ladies, this here is Private William Mitchell. He'll look after you for a while." Then he gives me a wink, turns and leaves.

"Hello, Private," Jane finds her voice, addressing the young man. "Bit wet are we?"

"I've been wetter," the Private declares. "All part of the service."

"What other services do you offer?" Elizabeth asks with a grin.

The Private returns her grin. "Our service mostly has us working in moist environments, so shouldn't I be asking you what services are on offer?"

"Wot do you think we's are, soldier, common whores?" Charlotte says with a hint of humour in her voice.

Several of us giggle quietly and Jane speaks. "Yer an uncommon whore, Char."

Charlotte chuckles, Jane's quip not affecting her in the slightest, like water off a duck's back. "I'm a thief, Jane, not a whore. There's a difference you know."

"What about you, Jane?" asks the Private. "Are you a thief or a whore?"

"Neither. I am what you call a felon."

"She's a thief," Elizabeth quips.

"And a harlot," Charlotte adds with a giggle, and I can't help but smile at the banter.

Even Private Mitchell laughs, but his humour is interrupted by an unintelligible shout from outside the tent. He picks up his Brown Bess musket which he'd left leaning against the table and gives Jane a smile and wink. "Sounds like trouble. Never a dull moment around here, luv," he says, before heading into the night.

"I said, who goes there?" a thick Irish accent bellows from outside.

Ann Beardsley, who'd hardly spoken two words since we landed ashore, puts her hand to her mouth and whispers, "It's John."

"Your man?" I whisper. "John McCarthy?"

"Yes." She grips my hand and I squeeze back. "He must have spotted someone out there in the dark."

More shouting erupts from outside as I hear big Corporal Bowers speaking in a fierce tone. "Come any closer, Jack, and we'll have to arrest you. Go back the way you came and we'll speak no more of this."

Voices reply, much too close to the tent for my liking. "Youse mind your own business, Marine."

"Look, Corporal, we came to make a trade. We give ya rum, youse give us the ladies till sunup. What do ya say."

"Don't do anything stupid, Marine. We's got yas outnumbered at least five to one."

Oh, Lord, my heart is beating harder. Five to one! I look to the faces of my four companions, noting a little fear in their eyes, even Charlotte's. She holds my gaze and mouths the word shit, and she takes my hand in hers and squeezes tight. Her gesture is comforting, but though I'd joke Charlotte could take on all the sailors in a tussle, it's disconcerting there must be a score of sailors out there coming for us and only four Marine's to stand between them and us.

"Back off now, Jack," Corporal Bowers bellows nearby. We can't see into the darkness beyond the tent opening, for the storm has moved along, the lighting flickering intermittently in the distance, down the harbour or maybe even out to sea, but the rest of the world is in darkness.

Across from me Jane is beginning to breathe harder and I look to her, noting her eyes are riveted on the tent door. Elizabeth crosses to Jane in a rare moment of tenderness, and whispers, "It's alright, the Marines will sort them sailors out."

"Yes, my new friend Private Hayes will whack those sailors into shape with his giant pork sausage." Charlotte said it so impassively, and Elizabeth and I both giggle, despite the gravity of the situation and anxiety building as a ball in my chest.

"Marines! Fix bayonets!" Corporal Bower's bellows again, and we hear the scraping sound of the long knives leaving scabbards.

"No need to be like that, lads," a gruff voice calls out, likely one of the sailors.

"Jesus," Jane whispers, her voice trembling. "They're goin' ta battle over us!"

I try to sound brave despite the fear rising within, but I can't find the words, and so simply say, "It does sound serious out there."

"No," says Charlotte, giving me a weak smile. "It's not serious at all, because they've only come for an evenin' stroll on this here fine night. Maybe they simply want ta chat wiv a young lady." I smile back and she squeezes my hand. "We'll be fine, Hettie. Our Marines'll sort the Tars out."

I take great comfort from Charlotte's tenderness and bravery. As one of the proud trouble makers, I were surprised Charlotte weren't taken ashore with the first batch of women this morning, but I'm glad she's here among us now. Despite her coarse ways she has a stout heart of English oak.

"I do like me some sailors, but not like this," Elizabeth whispers.

"Like I said," Charlotte speaks soothingly, "Our boys will sort them out. I know they will."

By God I hope she's right.

There are sounds now of a scuffle, with much yelling and swearing, and I can't help myself, letting Charlotte's hand go and racing to the front of the tent to stick my head through the opening. It's dark, but in the blackness I count fifteen sailors attempting to surround our four Marines, who have knocked down at least two of their assailants who now lay writhing at the Marine's feet.

"Now listen," Corporal Bowers' deep voice barks at his adversaries. "Take yourselves back to your ship and we'll let this matter drop. Carry away your fellows here too." He gives one of the bodies on the ground a prod with his boot, eliciting a groan from the fallen man.

"We can take 'em, boys," one of the sailors growls. "They're only a few."

"Why don't you lads just watch for convicts creeping into the Guv's compound or escaping and let us be," another sailor implores.

"Can't do that," Bowers replies. "Captain Tench's orders. Now back off."

"Ah, Captain Tench getting you to guard his golden-haired whore, is he?"

"Your Captain should have kept her safe aboard the ship in his cabin if he didn't want her whored out tonight," another sailor says, and I reeled back from the tent's entrance, knowing the sailors refer specifically to me now.

"Pretty thing she is, with those big blue eyes and golden curls."

"And those full lips. I bet they wrapped nicely around the Captain's wick."

"She can wrap 'em around ours now."

"I bet he loved sucking her firm ripe titties."

My heart beats faster as I fall back into the tent, my hand at my mouth, and I feel hands catch me. "There, there, child," Charlotte whispers in my ear, "Rumours among the sailors is all."

But the sailors haven't finished. "I know I'd love to stick my big wick between her lovely bosoms."