The Convict Ship, Volume 2 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
General
The Convict Ship, Volume 2 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Convict ships -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
I glanced at the deck of the ship, but should not have known the
vessel as the _Childe Harold_. Strong barricades, studded with iron
spikes, had been erected a little way abaft the foremast and upon the
quarter-deck, leaving a narrow open space betwixt this after-fencing
and the front of the cuddy. Each barricade had a gate. At the
after-gate stood a red-coated sentry, with a loaded musket and fixed
bayonet. At the great central or main-hatch stood another sentry. In
the recess formed by the overhanging lap of the poop-deck was a stand
of arms. The barricades made a huge pen of the waist, main-deck, and
part of the quarter-deck. On the left or port side ran a strong
barrier, like a great fence, leaving a narrow gangway betwixt it and
the bulwark. This I afterwards understood was to enable the sailors and
others to go backward and forward without constantly obliging them to
pass the sentries and enter the space barricaded off for the convicts.
I glanced behind me as I walked with the boatswain, and saw a sentry
stationed at the forecastle, and two more, each with muskets and fixed
bayonets, paced the break of the poop athwartships to and fro in a
regular, pendulum, sentinel swing, which brought them crossing each
other always in exactly the same place. I had young, very keen eyes.
All these points I had collected before we had gone half the length
of the main-deck gangway. Not a convict was to be seen. I had caught
a sight of two men walking together on the poop right aft, near the
wheel, and I also saw Will on the poop standing to leeward beside
another young apprentice; and on the other side of the deck, at the
head of the poop-ladder, was the officer of the watch.
As I advanced with the boatswain I saw Will look, make a step toward
the brass rail which protected the fore-end of the raised deck and
stare a moment; he then wheeled round, walked to the side and gazed at
the white wash of passing water. The ship was under a great spread of
canvas, heeling over and sailing fast, and the yeasty swirl alongside
was swift and dazzling. I could not see the horizon over the weather
bulwarks; but to leeward it was all open sea, green, ridging and
flecked, with a cold blue sky over the trucks and many large white
clouds sailing down into the west. Two or three women, with shawls over
their heads, sat on the edge of a little square hatch under the break
of the poop; some children were running about near them. These women
stared very hard at me as I passed.
‘Hullo, bo’sun!’ called out the man who was standing at the head of the
poop-ladder. ‘What have you got there?’
‘A stowaway, sir.’
‘When did you find him?’
‘Just now, sir.’
‘Where?’
‘Under the forecastle.’
‘Step him up here.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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