The Convict Ship, Volume 1 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
General
The Convict Ship, Volume 1 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Convict ships -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
For my part I was wholly fearless when I looked forward. My heart beat
high. I had but two anxieties: One lest my uncle Johnstone should
discover what I was about and stop me by warning the captain of the
_Childe Harold_; the other lest Tom at the last should be detained
on board the hulk for a later ship. For this latter difficulty I had
provided with Will. But as to my uncle and aunt, I told them plainly
that I was going out to Tasmania, and that I only waited to learn that
Tom was on board the _Childe Harold_ to follow him by the first ship.
You will suppose that neither of them had the slightest suspicion that
my ship was to be Tom’s convict ship herself. How could such an idea
enter their heads unless Will blabbed, which he had taken his oath not
to do? Mr. Johnstone could never dream that I meant to dress myself up
as a boy and hide under the _Childe Harold’s_ forecastle.
One night, and that was the last I spent at his house near the Tower,
he talked of my resolution to follow Tom till we rose to high words.
Will was out, or I dare say my temper might have brought him to side
with his father and mother, which would have raised a feeling between
us, and ruined my hopes so far as he went. Mr. Johnstone said he
thanked God I was no girl of his. He thanked God his only child was a
boy. What would my father, if he were alive, think of my following the
fortunes of a convict?
I answered that my father was a true man and would always wish me to be
a true woman. My father was not a man to oblige me to betray and desert
Tom because a dreadful trouble had come upon the poor fellow; and here
I cried a little.
‘Still, my dear, Captain Butler is a convict,’ said my aunt. ‘I wish to
say nothing about his guilt or innocence, but he wears felon’s clothes,
he is loaded with irons; he lives with the scum of the nation----’
‘And, guilty or innocent, he is irrecoverably disgraced,’ broke in my
uncle.
‘Why did you undertake his defence, then?’ I cried.
‘A man is innocent till he is proved guilty,’ answered my uncle. ‘By
the logic of the law I undertook the defence of a guiltless person.’
This enraged me. It was like burning or cruelly wounding or torturing
me in any savage way to speak ill of Tom or to cast a doubt upon his
innocence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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