| William
found the first day of sailing particularly enjoyable. The prisoners
were allowed on the decks although the pensioner guards stood at their
posts and kept a wary eye for first day troubles. The weather was fair
and there was a good breeze taking the Norwood quickly out into the
English Channel. The wind filled the sails and the ropes creaked and
stretched with the strain as the ship ploughed through the waves
splashing the surf at her bows and leaving a white trail behind. William
marvelled at the fact that when he looked towards the horizon, all that
he could see was the sea. He just could not envisage it’s vastness. It
was like looking into the sky. He kept looking back toward the south
coast of England until eventually it slowly disappeared over the
horizon. As the ship manoeuvred out into the Atlantic, the French coast
also began to disappear and they were surrounded totally by water. The
first night at sea began calmly and William slept soundly but as the
night wore on, the ship began to roll as she encountered a fair swell.
The wind had risen, the ropes cracking and straining even louder as the
sails filled to capacity. William awoke to a breaking dawn. He felt a
little sick but suppressed the feeling not wishing to vomit in the small
confined space which he had slept. He thought that perhaps a warm drink
and a little to eat might settle his stomach. He tried to stand but the
ship was rolling heavily in the strong gale that was now blowing. He
clung to the iron barred door to steady himself, his stomach churning
now. The saliva was dripping out of his mouth and he could feel the
heaving in his stomach as the muscles started to force its contents
streaming out of his mouth in a torrent through the iron bars on to the
decking. He retched until his stomach was empty. He could hear others
vomiting and he realised what was why he felt so ill. He was seasick.
And he knew that until he got used to the pitching and rolling of the
ship the terrible nausea would continue. As the ship headed out into the
Atlantic towards the African coast the weather gradually got worse and
conditions below became unbearable. Because of the on deck conditions
the prisoners were only allowed on deck for a short while when the
weather calmed a little between squalls and the heavy rain. The stench
of vomit below decks was washed away with hoses leaving the messes at
least clean enough to be habitable. This awful weather lasted just over
three weeks. As the ship sailed southwards the wind began to ease and
the sea became calmer. William’s nausea had passed now as he became
accustomed to pitch and roll of the ship as she ploughed onwards through
the swell, her bows climbing each oncoming wave and then dipping them
into the trough splashing white foaming surf over the decking. The prisoners were now able to spend most of the day on deck. As they sailed through the tropics past Madeira and then the Canary Islands there was sunshine and a steady warm breeze every day. William could remember the hot summer days when he and Myra and the children used to walk through the woods and alongside the dams but it was never like this. It was only April and the prisoners were allowed to remove their shirts, most of them acquiring deep tans as they worked on the decks scrubbing and cleaning under the watchful eye of the guards. Work ceased in the evening and following an evening meal, generally meat, vegetables and bread the prisoners would settle in small groups. Teale had somehow got hold of a pack of cards and along with William, Henry Bone and Bentcliffe would play solo whist to while away the hours. Occasionally one of the prisoners in the other groups would burst into song and the others would join in if they knew the words. Life seemed easy for the time being. Some of the prisoners names were called to receive goods and letters which although they had been taken on board in Portland had not been distributed because of the foul weather. William heard his name and went and collected a large tin box. It was the box to which Myra had referred in her letter. It had been well sealed so that it was airtight and it took some few minutes to remove the seals. William prised of the lid to reveal the contents. William tried to remember what Myra had written on
the list as he began to unpack each individually wrapped parcel within
the box to see what each contained. Two small and one large spice loaves
from his sisters, a pork pie and a mince pie, two pounds of cheese- it
was a veritable treasure chest of luxuries. Two pounds of sugar and two
pounds of tea, four books to read. Myra had enclosed a quire of writing
paper and three bottles of ink, no excuses for not writing now. There
was thread, needles and buttons and little Alfred’s pocket knife. Two
fig cakes, six apples, oranges and lemons, a bottle of pickles and a
pound of bacon. William closed his eyes and tried to imagine the
sizzling frying pan and the aroma of crispy bacon. What more could a man
want. Myra had thought of everything. His favourite tobacco pouch, and
not only a bottle of tobacco but a parcel of tobacco as well and half a
dozen clay pipes. He couldn’t wait to fill a pipe and taste the smoke
as he inhaled it. What more could be in this box he wondered as he
reached into the bottom. A flannel shirt, two trouser belts, a
handkerchief, two caps and a purse. Myra knew that William had always
been proud of his appearance and so lastly he pulled from the box, a
looking glass and a comb. She had thought of everything. “Sailed
from Portland on the 18th. Head
wind … Rough night The
Saturday night before Easter and Easter Saturday night” He
wrote no more than that. A month at sea in four lines but William was no
great scholar and needed something a little more exciting than bad
weather to make notes about. Caught
a shark on the 21st May, A
death the same day. That
night, William slept fitfully. His nightmare had returned, but this time
in the shape of the shark that had been caught earlier that day. He was
pulling it in and as it came over the side, Teale and Bone helped him to
beat the shark over the head with heavy sticks. But it wasn’t a shark
– it was William Lilley, eyes glaring, blood pumping from his
fractured skull staining the deck a crimson red. He awoke and sat up.
The hot day temperatures had cooled in the night breeze but William was
soaked with sweat. He was afraid to go to sleep now.
A
ship came up and took Myra
looked around the sparsely furnished room at 33, Midland Road. Life had
been hard for her and the children since William had been imprisoned.
Almost eighteen months had passed since that dreadful day when he had
been arrested. She had last seen him when she visited him at Wakefield.
She had tried so hard to scrape enough money together to make the
journey to Portsmouth so that she may see her husband one last time
before his departure on the Norwood. It was difficult enough to manage
to earn enough money to pay the rent and afford enough food each week
for the hungry growing children so she had to be content with sending
William a box of items which for a short time, at least, would perhaps
help him think of her and home. She had even had to borrow money from
her brothers and sisters to enable her to send the box to the ship
hoping that it would arrive before departure. She had asked Mr. Price,
who employed her as a cleaner, to write a letter to William on her
behalf listing the articles she had sent and asking him to write back to
her confirming delivery. The eldest daughter, Anne, was thirteen now and
employed in the kitchen at Clough House and Myra was appreciative of the
tiny wage she earned helping to keep them going. Myra’s mother had
been good to her particularly helping out by looking after young
William. He was two years old now and walking, his fingers into
everything but a real bundle of fun. Alfred, now ten years old, had
spent a couple of years at school. He didn’t like it much and was
never much of a scholar and it looked as though he would probably end up
in the Ironworks or down the pit if any work became available. Times
were still hard with many a man without a job. Thirza was eight years
old, a little madam, was also at school but she loved it. Already able
to read and write was able to help her mother a little. Myra never
thought that she would need to read or write but if she was ever going
to be able to correspond with her dear husband she had to learn. A
week later, a small report appeared in the Advertiser. Mr. Price had
noticed the article and seeing Myra cleaning in the general office had
called her into his own office and asked if she knew of the report. She
shook her head and he began to read it.
Article
re The Silverwood Murder Case Release
of Woodhouse and a reward for the keepers. Although
it has not been generally made known until this week that Woodhouse (the
approver) had been set at liberty, we are able to state on what we
consider reliable authority that he was released from prison some time
ago. With regard to the reward we are informed by Mr. Whitfield, (the
attorney for the prosecution) that
he has received from the Treasury Office a notification to the effect
that the Government Reward of £100 is to be divided between the
approver and the keepers who are to receive £25 each. The Lords of the
Treasury further intimate that they do not consider the police entitled
to any share in the reward offered by the Home secretary as they only
apprehended the prisoners after receiving information which led them to
know who were the guilty parties. 2nd
June - good wind The
Norwood sailed on relentlessly heading towards its goal. Day after day.
There was the occasional squabble now between the prisoners which was
usually quickly quashed by the guards. Punishment for those involved was
sharp and painful in receiving half a dozen strokes across the bared
back with a stiff cane. William had been involved in a standoff one day
when Teale had accused one of the other prisoners, John Jamieson, of
cheating at cards. They were playing for tobacco and Teale said that he
had dealt from the bottom of the deck. Teale had a fiery temper and was
quick to throw a punch but it looked as though he may have picked on the
wrong man this time. Jamieson stood up, rising to his full height of six
feet. He was a tough Scotsman and had been sentenced to life for the
murder of a man in a drunken brawl. Although there were several of his
countrymen aboard, Jamieson had no friends. He was a nasty piece of work
and generally was avoided by the other prisoners who knew his
reputation. He kicked the makeshift table to one side sending the cards
spinning and came towards Teale. “Hey up lads,” called Teale. Within
a few seconds Sykes, Bone and Bentcliffe were by his side before
Jamieson could even aim a blow at Teale. Jamieson stopped in his tracks.
He could have taken Teale but he knew he couldn’t beat them all. For
several seconds no one moved. The other prisoners tried to shield the
scene so that the guards couldn’t see what was happening. Jamieson
glowered at Teale “Bastards” he spat, “Another time.” He threw
the tobacco pouch down on the deck, turned and walked away. William
breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s a bad one to mess with,” he said
to Teale. Teale bent and picked up the pouch, turned to William and said
grinning, “I know and he wasn’t dealing from the bottom either. He
won it fair and square.” William looked at Bone and Bentcliffe and
shook his head in disbelief.
26
Accident with the boiler – This
would be the last entry in William’s diary and the calm before the
storm. In all, it was just small two pages and had recorded in a few
words this epic journey from the home shores of England to this alien
land of the aborigine.
There would be one more night to spend on board, rising early next
morning to prepare for landing. This was achieved by means of barges
which came alongside to transport convicts across the half mile of water
to a small jetty. It was raining quite heavily as William stepped into
the barge, having descended the rope ladders from the deck side and he
was directed to the front of the barge which held about fifty persons at
a time. When the barge arrived alongside the jetty they were ordered to
form a single file. Leg chains were attached to each prisoner by the
guards in readiness to march up through the town to the ‘Convict
Establishment’. Escorted by the guards they began to walk steadily in
the driving rain towards the town.
Having spent three months on board the ‘Norwood’ he felt a
little unsteady at first but soon got used to the solid ground beneath
his feet as the pace increased. The road was muddy, with little rivulets
of water forming large pools along the way. There were few onlookers to
watch the procession pass by, for the townspeople had all seen prisoner
disembarkation many times before. As they approached the gaol, William
was amazed at its size. Built by prisoners over the years, the entrance
archway with its iron gates wide open in its gaping mouth, stood between
two sturdy tower blocks welcoming the prisoners. Over the
archway was embedded a black clock face with gilt roman figures, its
bell striking noon as they drew closer. Through that entrance and into the courtyard where they were
released from the chains and instructed to stand in rows of twenty until
all the prisoners had been received and assembled. There was a roll call
and at this time, each of the prisoners were allocated a new number
which they would keep for the whole period of their sentence. |
