One Night in Sydney Cove

Nathaniel puts his arm around me again and his tone conveys the melancholy of his memory. "Not much gets past you, does it? Yes, my wife was French. When we met, she was helping look after sick soldiers in America, where her father was a French officer advising the rebel army. He'd fallen ill and was recovering in the same fort where we were imprisoned. I became sick for some time and she helped nurse me too. Our circumstances of imprisonment were relaxed and once I recovered she and I met frequently in the fort's courtyard."

"So you began a courtship in the courtyard?"

I'd hoped my quip would give him cause to laugh, but instead he lets out another sigh. "She could have married an officer in the French Army or Navy, or perhaps an American, but she fell for a captive English Marine Private, following me back to my Father's farm in Devon against her own Father's wishes. I was their enemy and sometimes I wonder if she was right, that the Lord was punishing her and perhaps she'd still live if she'd not followed me there."

"No!" I say, feeling Nathaniel's pain deeply in my own chest. "Don't believe it for a second. You must have loved her and she you. I can tell from the way you speak! And she wouldn't have left her family for you if she didn't love you." As a woman I know this must be true and thought perhaps Nathaniel's tale to be the most romantic thing I'd ever heard.

"Yes, I loved Marguerite more than I can say, and I'd have followed her to the end of the world and should have settled in America with her like she'd hoped. Maybe then her Father would have approved. But instead my patriotic duty called and she followed me without question and I fear it caused her own end."

"No, Nathaniel. I don't believe the Lord God would take someone because of your place of birth. We may be the French's enemy, and they are ours, but the Lord in Heaven would not take a woman from a man she loved without reason."

"Well, what other reason would there be? Other than our nations being enemies."

Frustrated, I can't answer his question. "I don't know. I just...I feel you loved your wife very much. You seem to be a kind man and I'm sure she loved you."

Nathaniel sighs and pulls me into him again. "She'd have liked you, Henrietta. She favoured kindness above all traits. I wish I could have lived up to her ideal, even though by God I tried."

I put my arm around his waist and we hold one another as we sit on the log while flashes of purple light up the distant clouds, rumbling deep and long with thunder. Despite the damp heat in the night air, Nathaniel's body warmth is oh so comforting, and again I rest my head on his shoulder, which rises and falls with his breath.

Beyond our stumpy chair I can hear whispers from the tents; a low male voice and a higher female voice. I can't be sure, but I think the female voice belongs to Jane and perhaps the male is Private Mitchell. Further away in the darkness comes the growling of unseen animals and the occasional human yell or cheer, and another fiddle somewhere in the direction of the convict encampment further down the cove this time, or as Nathaniel calls this shore, The Rocks. Later a dreadful scream from the convict encampment pierces the night, with some aggressive yelling, but all dies down again.

The scream haunts me and I can't determine whether it's a man or a woman, and I hope no one is coming to harm. But it matters little to most, I suppose, because life among the convicts can be violent and brutal and unfortunately I'm rather used to such screams. And thus, I'm more than gladdened to be in the company of Nathaniel Bowers, Corporal and gentleman of the New South Wales Marines Corps. He is different from most other men I've met since my imprisonment and I feel naturally at ease with him, enjoying his company immensely.

"The Commodore," Nathaniel speaks after a long silence, startling me slightly, "spoke to us Marines and told us we may settle at the end of our enlistment, if we pleased, and he may even grant land to those who choose to stay and farm."

I think for a moment. "So you are planning to settle?"

"I've thought long about it. The Commodore said we've a lot of work ahead of us, setting up this new colony, and we Marines are to help out with the construction as much as the convicts. Men with farming experience would be most useful and may be rewarded with large parcels of land. I grew up farming, so I believe I may be half decent at toiling the soil here. However, we'll need to find soil better than this sand if we hope to grow anything."

"I know nothing of farming. Only dusting, mending clothes, cooking meals. I also know a little of Masters who like pretty, young, gullible maids, and I also know how to make a decent forgery of a coin..."

Nathaniel leans into me and rests his head on mine, while mine is resting on his shoulder. "You need to forgive yourself, Henrietta. But the future may not be as glum as it seems."

"No?" His words are incredulous because my vision for the future has always been limited to domestic work, and once in prison, I didn't think I'd have much of a future at all, and thus I can't see it improving too much, despite the company of this gentleman sea-soldier.

"There are ways to freedom. The Commodore has told us if we were to marry a convict girl, she'd be pardoned and free to go where ever her husband went. He told us they would permit such marriages and both the reverends Johnson and Marsden will be conducting marriage ceremonies very soon. Perhaps in the coming days, even."

A flash of light and deep rumble comes from somewhere behind us, beyond the rock ridge, and much closer than the storms lingering off the coast in the distance. Nathaniel releases his arm from me while, letting his words sink in. Was he asking me to be his wife?

My heart beats faster at the thought and I need to think this matter through. I've known this man briefly, meeting him this very evening, seeing him sporadically through the night up until he escorted me into the forest so I could do my private business.

Since then we'd become friendly, learning a number of private details about one another's lives, all under the cover of darkness mind you. I knew he was big, like a bull, and handsome too, perhaps quite brave, and from what I can tell he's a true gentleman. He could have taken rough advantage of me at any time of his choosing, yet instead he's asking me to settle here with him. And why not? I feel naturally comfortable with him, unlike with most men, and I'd been a fool to think the good Captain Tench would be interested in a convict such as myself. My dear old Mother used to say the Lord shall provide, and so was the Lord answering my prayers and providing for me this very moment?

"Are you asking me to be your wife?" I ask, needing direct answers, my heart beating fast.

He gives a low laugh, but I suspect it's caused by nerves rather than humour. "Nothing gets past you, does it, Henrietta. Yes, I'm asking you to be my wife. I'd be honoured if you'll have me. I know we hardly know one another but I will do my best to make you safe and happy."

My laughter even surprises me and I stifle it with my hand.

"What's so funny, Henrietta?"

I fear my uncontrolled laugh has offended him, and I'm not even sure why I laughed so. "Nothing is funny, Nathaniel. I shouldn't have laughed." I paused, letting my thoughts arrange themselves in my head before I put them into words. "I'm a convict who was sentenced for forgery. I regret it every single day, but I'm not hardened like many of my companions. I fear I'm naïve to the ways of men and the world, other than the fact they really only want one thing from us women folk."

He waits for me to proceed, yet I don't even know what I'm blabbering about. After a while of silence, he asks in a humorous tone, "What are you trying to tell me? That you're accepting my offer?"

"We hardly know each other, Nathaniel."

"Yet I was sure the moment I laid eyes on you I would settle here and farm the land, with you at my side. I don't know why, but I saw it all, our future together. Perhaps it was God who put the idea in my head, but sure as day, I know if you'll be my wife I'll gladly settle here."

My heart feels like it skips several beats and I whisper, "The Lord shall provide."

"I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars in heaven, and the sand which is upon the seashore."

"What?"

"Genesis. The Lord God provided a ram to Abraham for the purpose of sacrifice instead of sacrificing his son, Isaac. He then tells Abraham he will ensure he has many children."

"Oh, I never read the bible. Why would Abraham sacrifice his son?"

"Because God asked him to, I suppose to test his loyalty. Anyhow, God provided Abraham with a ram so he wouldn't have to give up his son. I've read the Bible many times. Life on board ships or as part of a garrison is often dull, so we often need something to do when we aren't soldiering, and though I haven't always remained pious and I don't always understand what I've read, I know God's book well enough and it comforts me to read it. You said you can read?"

"As a matter of fact, I can," I say with pride in my voice and heart. "My mother thought it would do me well to learn to read, and indeed, my Master's library became my favourite room in the house." I close my eyes and am immediately transported back to the wonderful room full of books, with its single window for light and the two-person settee by the small fireplace. "One day my Master caught me reading books when I should be dusting and I was petrified he'd scold me, or even worse. Instead, he was surprised I enjoyed reading and allowed me to borrow any book I wanted, so long as I asked him first."

I found no need to add the details of how, soon after my eighteenth birthday and over a year after my Mistress passed away, my Master joined me there in his library one day, telling me I was the prettiest maid he'd ever known, and how he then whispered he'd wanted to tell me this for some time. We didn't have to do anything about it, he said, and I could leave the room if I wished. But how I longed for his touch and I let him pull me into his embrace on the settee as he planted a wet kiss on my mouth, laying together, and how I'd enjoyed him removing our clothes, kissing me all over, his warm naked body against mine, his old hands caressing my breasts in the most lovely manner, and his tumescent member slowly penetrating my tender virgin cavity, then thrusting away, gently at first, then quicker. And how he told me he loved me as he pulled himself from me, spouting his sticky milky man-seed over my belly and thighs.

It was the first of many adventures with my Master in the library, almost always ending the same way; my Master never finishing inside me because he feared I might fall pregnant to him and he already had a number of adult children, all of them older than me, and who he worried were going to fight over his estate when he passed. Coitus interruptus, he called it, when he pulled his manhood from my lady parts rather than drive his seed deep into my body in the way the rough sailors and Marines later would. It were soon after our first coupling he taught me how to forge my first coin.

Nathaniel's voice startles me. "You seem to have lost your train of thought."

"Oh," I stammer, trying to think of something to say. "I were just thinking how I always found myself reading books about travellers who were lost or wandering, looking for adventure."

"Oh, which ones?"

"Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver's Travels were two of my favourites. I'm the lost traveller on my biggest adventure now, it seems."

"I've heard of both books but don't believe I've read them. I think we're all lost to some degree, but God works in mysterious ways and perhaps I'll add a library to the house I build and obtain a copy of each book. My many children will need an education you see, and books to stir their imaginations, and perhaps they will even have a well-read mother who can teach them to read."

A smile forms on my lips, uncontrollably so, and despite the darkness, I'm sure he can hear the smile in my voice. "You have many children? I thought you mentioned one son."

"Oh, my lady," Nathaniel says in a sincere tone, "I hope to have several more children. And they must be educated too."

Realising what he is saying I can't control my smile, but it's veiled in the darkness. "Well, I guess you better make sure the mother of your several children can read."

"Reading is important," he says, nodding in agreement. "Do you know where I can find such an educated woman?"

"Hmmm, I do know of a woman who can read, though she's not so properly educated as you might hope she is."

"Reading is a start and the key to education, so near enough is good enough, I'd like to think." I can tell he's smirking, because when the lighting lights up the sky, so it does light up his face. The nearby loud crack of thunder jolts us both again, flinching together on the tree stump.

"That thunderbolt wiped the smug grin off your face quick-smart, Corporal." He probably can't my grin in the dark but I know he can hear it in my voice.

"Thunderbolt? All I saw was you smiling back at me with your face beaming so bright it lit up the entire sky."

"You're so funny," I say sarcastically, playfully patting at his arm. But I'm still smiling and my face is blushing too because I feel the heat prickling at my cheeks. And then a big fat drop of rain splatters on my nose and another on my arm and then head. "It's about to get wet out here."

"Yes, Miss Henrietta, I believe it is. Hot, steamy and wet. We should retire to the tents."

"I won't argue with you there."

Nathaniel stands and offers me his left arm. "My lady."

Accepting his arm, linking it with my own, I tell him, "Why thank you, Sir. Has anyone told you you're a true gentleman?"

"Not recently, no."

"Well, Corporal Bowers, I think you are a gentleman." And my heart beats harder as the thoughts of what I'm about to say begin to tumble as words from my mouth. "And yes, Corporal, I will accept your offer of marriage."

I know my recent hopes for Captain Tench to show greater romantic interest in me are folly, because I am a convict and he a well-bred Captain, and yet he's provided for me in a most fortunate manner. I'm completely sure I could do no better in this God forsaken land, or any other land for that matter, because even though I only met Corporal Nathaniel Bowers this very evening he is proving to be a true gentleman and a wonderful companion. A handsome gentleman he is too, and I believe the Lord truly is providing for me.

"I'm very glad to hear it, Henrietta," he tells me with a genuine tone of happiness in his voice. "I intend to make you a very happy lady. Hot, steamy and wet too, if you so desire."

"Maybe you're not so gentlemanly after all."

We both laugh and I feel so happy to be on his arm with much of the uncertainty gnawing at my heart dissipating. For a moment in time I can ignore any remaining anxiety and feel happy, even excited about my future prospects! I mustn't let my heart run away with joy though; well, not until we are joined in Holy matrimony, anyways. I have some experience of how fortunes can quickly change and I don't want to bugger this opportunity of a lifetime up.

We duck under the canvas awning and into the first tent as the rain begins to drum heavily on the canvas and a flash of lightning illuminates the interior and the vicious ear-piercing crack of thunder is instantaneous, and in the moment of light I see movement of two bodies rutting on the floor directly in front of us, grunting and groaning, and I jump as much from the thunder-crack as I do from shock realisation it's Jane Fitzgerald before me, rutting with a Marine, looking up at me from where she lies underneath the man, eyes wide and glassy.

I abruptly turn and take Nathaniel's hand, whispering to him, "Maybe we should try the other tent."

He simply nods and we duck back out under the canvass awning sheltering front of into the tents, a place for the guards on duty to stand, noting the guards all appear to be predisposed in the arms of my companions! Nathaniel says nothing about it as we avoid the water pouring off the canvass where it has been pooling in the teaming rain and we dash into the second tent, which is a dark pit of blackness.

Thinking over what I'd witnessed in the first tent, I realise I'd noticed more detail, where Charlotte was asleep at the rear, while her Marine, Private John Hayes was sitting beside her, and he was definitely watching, or at least listening to the goings on near the tent's entrance. I recall another body who I assume was Elizabeth, asleep on the ground by the table, upon which the candle in its protective glass lantern was extinguished.

But I can't wipe the vision of Jane on her back, copulating with the Marine who was still dressed in his uniform except for his trousers around his ankles behind him, thrusting into her, his bare arse pumping back and forth. I can only assume it was Privates William Mitchell. I also assume the snores coming from the rear of this very tent belong to Ann and her Marine, John McCarthy.

Nathaniel comes to the same conclusion. "Well," he says, "I think all my Privates have made acquaintances with your companions. I really should have kept them all on duty, though I'm not sure we'd've heard anyone sneaking by. Anyhow, we could only deal with them if it were but a few."

"I think my companion's private parts have made acquaintances with your Private's privates," I say with a laugh. "Except for Elizabeth, the poor lass."

His soft laugh tells me he's smiling at me. "Poor lass, indeed. We are all supposed to be on duty still, but we'll hopefully be relieved soon." He pulls a pocket-watch from a leather pouch on his belt. "Maybe your friend Elizabeth will make a new acquaintance amongst the lads in the morning. Can't see a bloody thing in this deluge, so I'm not sure if we'd have been much of a guard against escaping convicts, even if my comrades weren't making merry with your friends. The lags could easily get by us and we wouldn't even know."

I watch as he stands under the awning directly in front of the tent, first pushing up at the bulging canvass to release more pooling water as a torrent, then seemingly peering into the dark night. He may as well close his eyes for all that he can see, because he'd still be able to see about as much all the same. If anyone were approaching us, we wouldn't know.

But the dear Lord provides Corporal Nathaniel Bowers with light to help him see, sending down a lightning bolt as if aimed straight at the Devil himself, with instantaneous accompanying thunder-crack, so loud and frightening I jump out of my wits. Even my brave and strong Nathaniel flinches, dropping his pocket-watch with a muttered curse. And moments later there is only the sound of the rain on the canvass, and yet I'm astounded by the continued sound of snoring from the two bed-fellows at the rear of the tent.

My brave and strong Nathaniel. Did I really think that? My Nathaniel. I smile a sheepish smile no one will ever see. Not even Nathaniel himself, who is bending down to pick up his fallen time-piece. The silhouetted curve of his behind is pleasing to my eyes, but before I am able to contemplate how my fortunes have very recently changed for the better, I'm certain I hear shouts far away in the dark night, despite the noise from the rain hammering the tent's canvass, and then there is another flash and thunder-crack, causing us to both jump again.

"These storms here are certainly something, aren't they," Nathaniel says in a casual tone. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, I feel perfectly safe at the moment. With the Lord throwing bolts of lightning around us who needs to worry about the sailors, convicts or natives running amok out there in the dark." In truth my stomach is curdling, because I fear the voices I'd heard are getting closer. Someone is coming, I'm sure of it, and I'm not sure who they are.