The Tin Ticket Part 6

When she first boarded the Hindostan Hindostan in May, Ludlow's gaol report had made note of her "poor connexions," referring to the questionable friends she had made during nearly five months inside Newgate. Back then, the surgeon superintendent had looked unfavorably on the company she kept in prison, because guilt by a.s.sociation followed the women wherever they went. Amy Wilson he labeled "quarrelsome," and both Mary Grady and Ann Price "extremely insolent." in May, Ludlow's gaol report had made note of her "poor connexions," referring to the questionable friends she had made during nearly five months inside Newgate. Back then, the surgeon superintendent had looked unfavorably on the company she kept in prison, because guilt by a.s.sociation followed the women wherever they went. Amy Wilson he labeled "quarrelsome," and both Mary Grady and Ann Price "extremely insolent."13 But before disembarking, Ludlow's exemplary conduct and her skills as a nurse were recorded by Mr. McDonald. But before disembarking, Ludlow's exemplary conduct and her skills as a nurse were recorded by Mr. McDonald.

Anxious to step foot on solid land, Ludlow and her companions felt both relief and trepidation in leaving behind the stench of the ship and the pitch of the sea. Captain Lamb prepared for their departure and delivery. Princ.i.p.al Superintendent of Convicts Josiah Spode and Muster Master William Thomas Champ were on their way to the Hindostan Hindostan to inspect the cargo and exchange records. In spite of illness and injury, there had been only one death, an excellent record for the journey of twelve thousand nautical miles. Captain Lamb stood proudly on the freshly scrubbed deck alongside Surgeon Superintendent McDonald. Courtly and formal in dress uniforms with polished b.u.t.tons ablaze in the sun, the two officers exchanged polite congratulations and prepared to greet the small boat being rowed out from the docks. As the proper Englishmen prepared to greet one another, #151 and her daughter, Arabella, lined up for inspection with the rest of the prisoners. The two Tedders had arrived in good health, and the surgeon's kind words ensured Ludlow the best possible a.s.signment at the Female Factory. She had received a stellar recommendation, "the most attentive and best behaved on board doing duty as nurse." to inspect the cargo and exchange records. In spite of illness and injury, there had been only one death, an excellent record for the journey of twelve thousand nautical miles. Captain Lamb stood proudly on the freshly scrubbed deck alongside Surgeon Superintendent McDonald. Courtly and formal in dress uniforms with polished b.u.t.tons ablaze in the sun, the two officers exchanged polite congratulations and prepared to greet the small boat being rowed out from the docks. As the proper Englishmen prepared to greet one another, #151 and her daughter, Arabella, lined up for inspection with the rest of the prisoners. The two Tedders had arrived in good health, and the surgeon's kind words ensured Ludlow the best possible a.s.signment at the Female Factory. She had received a stellar recommendation, "the most attentive and best behaved on board doing duty as nurse."14 As one mess at a time was ushered onto the main deck, it took two days to complete their inspection. The officers lugged their big black books ash.o.r.e to complete stacks of paperwork that transferred jurisdiction for the exiled women and children. On Friday afternoon, Surgeon Superintendent McDonald returned with signed doc.u.ments for London and supplies from Hobart Town. He rewarded his nurse's diligence with a clean bucket of water and fresh milk for Arabella. Ludlow splashed her freckled face and helped her nine-year-old daughter scrub off the heavy grime baked into her skin and hair. Reveling in a generous soaping and a clean towel from the infirmary, she washed and dried her daughter's hair. For the moment, with Arabella by her side, Ludlow held fear at bay and prayed for the best.

White Pinafores.

Hindostan pa.s.sengers still healthy enough to walk were brought ash.o.r.e and delivered to a waiting contingent of scarlet-coated soldiers for the march along Macquarie Street. Ludlow kept Arabella close at hand as they made their way through the strange sights, sounds, and smells following them uphill to the base of Mt. Wellington. pa.s.sengers still healthy enough to walk were brought ash.o.r.e and delivered to a waiting contingent of scarlet-coated soldiers for the march along Macquarie Street. Ludlow kept Arabella close at hand as they made their way through the strange sights, sounds, and smells following them uphill to the base of Mt. Wellington.

A soldier ordered the weary transports to silence as they entered the stone enclave deep in the valley of shadows. Once inside, the women and children stood for hours in a long line wrapping around Yard One. While they awaited inspection and processing, an unofficial, albeit persistent, welcoming committee beckoned, bartering for clothing or jewelry in exchange for tobacco, soap, and other forbidden prison luxuries. They appeared one by one from a mysterious pa.s.sage to whatever lay behind Cascades' inner walls.

The women working in Yard One seemed a strange combination of the defiant and the defeated. Some bore the appearance of caged animals, seemingly tamed yet ready to turn on the captors incapable of extinguishing their raging spirit. Others ambled about at random, evidently terribly out of sorts. The ashen figures moved in slow, deliberate, and strangely silent motion. Ludlow's instincts told her that something was disturbingly amiss. She looked at Arabella and drew her closer still. Mother and daughter eventually inched toward the front of the line and were summoned into a small, dimly lit room.

Matron Hutchinson handed Ludlow a clean Female Factory uniform but offered no clothing for Arabella. Mr. Hutchinson had already perused the thick black volume recording Mrs. Tedder's literacy and good conduct aboard the Hindostan Hindostan. Nurse, cook, housekeeper, and mother, she exceeded the expectations for a petty thief. Towering over the slight widow, the stodgy superintendent informed her that she was a.s.signed to the new prison nursery on Liverpool Street back in the town's center. Nothing was said about Arabella, and Ludlow dared not inquire. As for herself, she had just received the most favorable work a.s.signment a prisoner could expect.

It was nearly half past six by the time all the Hindostan Hindostan transports were processed. Before clanging the supper bell, Deputy Matron Cato a.s.signed Ludlow to a mess of twelve. Arabella was content to follow her mum's lead and dunked her allotment of brown bread into the watery soup. At seven o'clock, Mrs. Hutchinson rang the prison bell for evening chapel, held an hour earlier than during the summer schedule. Mother Tedder took her little girl's hand as they walked toward the modest sanctuary and took a seat before the overstuffed Reverend Bedford. Her first night in the valley, Ludlow prayed for many miracles. As the Southern Cross fell behind Mt. Wellington's black shadow, she draped an arm around Arabella's waist. Before she knew it, mother and child lay snuggled asleep in a hammock that barely cleared the floor under their weight. transports were processed. Before clanging the supper bell, Deputy Matron Cato a.s.signed Ludlow to a mess of twelve. Arabella was content to follow her mum's lead and dunked her allotment of brown bread into the watery soup. At seven o'clock, Mrs. Hutchinson rang the prison bell for evening chapel, held an hour earlier than during the summer schedule. Mother Tedder took her little girl's hand as they walked toward the modest sanctuary and took a seat before the overstuffed Reverend Bedford. Her first night in the valley, Ludlow prayed for many miracles. As the Southern Cross fell behind Mt. Wellington's black shadow, she draped an arm around Arabella's waist. Before she knew it, mother and child lay snuggled asleep in a hammock that barely cleared the floor under their weight.

Morning muster was at six o'clock in the spring. Ludlow lined up for daily inspection in Yard One while Arabella peeked around from behind her. All shades of green burst across Mt. Wellington, and daffodils danced around its base. Soft pink apple blossoms and cherry trees in shades of dusty rose dotted the hilly farmland Ludlow could smell beyond the prison walls. Most of the women knew little about geography other than that they had been sent "beyond the seas." The reversed seasons were no doubt a source of confusion as they witnessed their first September spring in the Southern Hemisphere.

This time of year, Cascades convict veterans worked an extended morning session from six thirty until eight A.M. The bells rang for a half-hour breakfast break, and then it was off to chapel for morning prayers before the workday began again in earnest. Reverend Bedford and supporters among the colony's elite believed that forced labor redeemed the body's worth, if not the soul's. His captive congregation had little patience for his rather theatrical hissing and spitting from the pulpit. Twice daily, the aptly labeled Holy Willie chastised them for their evil ways and exhorted the virtues of industry for opening a window on redemption.

Widow Tedder's atonement commenced officially after morning chapel. Tapping her foot on the chapel steps, Mrs. Cato impatiently jingled the bell that seemed permanently attached to her palm and summoned #151 to her side. Deputy Matron Cato was charged with escorting prisoners a.s.signed to the Liverpool Street nursery. It was already half past eight; there was not a moment to waste in putting each woman to work. Performing her duty as prison midwife, Mrs. Cato had helped deliver many of the tiny babies now lodged in the new nursery.

Liverpool Street had opened only a year before in response to a newspaper expose about the atrocious conditions at the Cascades nursery, named the "Valley of the Shadow of Death" by the Colonial Times Colonial Times.15 Inside the Female Factory walls, at least twenty infants died during the first three months of 1838. Inside the Female Factory walls, at least twenty infants died during the first three months of 1838.16 Authorities had failed to acknowledge that malnutrition and illness had raised the infant mortality rate to four times that of the colony's free settlers. Instead, they blamed the convict mothers, accusing them of deliberately keeping their children near death in order to be with them in the nursery rather than returning to hard labor in Yard Two. Authorities had failed to acknowledge that malnutrition and illness had raised the infant mortality rate to four times that of the colony's free settlers. Instead, they blamed the convict mothers, accusing them of deliberately keeping their children near death in order to be with them in the nursery rather than returning to hard labor in Yard Two.

Matron Hutchinson herself understood the devastation of losing a child. She had given birth to twelve children, and six had died in infancy, at least four at the Female Factory.17 During her nineteen years at Cascades, a severely limited and largely untrained staff helped her manage the perpetually damp, overcrowded prison, where medical care was meager. Not surprisingly, the thinly stretched Mrs. Hutchinson received mixed reviews. Though the prisoners appeared to tolerate her more readily than they did her bureaucratic husband, the press cast her as a villain when it exposed a scandal at the prison. During her nineteen years at Cascades, a severely limited and largely untrained staff helped her manage the perpetually damp, overcrowded prison, where medical care was meager. Not surprisingly, the thinly stretched Mrs. Hutchinson received mixed reviews. Though the prisoners appeared to tolerate her more readily than they did her bureaucratic husband, the press cast her as a villain when it exposed a scandal at the prison.

Public outrage reached a boiling point with the case of Mary Vowles. The Irish la.s.s had freely immigrated to Van Diemen's Land in August 1832, two months later marrying an emancipist. In 1835, working as a servant, she was caught stealing a silver plate in Hobart Town and sentenced to seven years at Cascades. In 1838, the twenty-nine-year-old was charged with using bad language toward another woman and sentenced to six weeks' hard labor at the Female Factory. Appearing before Mr. Hutchinson with her son, Thomas, in her arms, she pleaded to keep the twelve-month-old with her because he was still nursing. Superintendent of Convicts Josiah Spode had already approved the request to keep Thomas with her, but it made no difference. Deputy Matron Cato also implored Mr. Hutchinson not to separate mother from suckling child. Again, he refused.

Five days after her admission to the Female Factory, Mary was allowed to visit her son in the prison nursery. "She did not know her own child, 'it was so sickly looking, and altered so much for the worse!'"18 A few days later, the nurse sent Mary a message asking for money to buy Thomas sago, a starch derived from palm trees that was mixed with wine to treat ill infants. Upon receiving news of her son's worsening condition, Mary asked Mr. Hutchinson for permission to visit the dying child. When he said no, the frantic mother ran toward the nursery but was detained and sentenced to solitary confinement. Somehow, she managed a message to her husband, who came to Cascades and left with their child. He purchased medicine from a pharmacist, but by now little Thomas was at death's door and soon succ.u.mbed. A few days later, the nurse sent Mary a message asking for money to buy Thomas sago, a starch derived from palm trees that was mixed with wine to treat ill infants. Upon receiving news of her son's worsening condition, Mary asked Mr. Hutchinson for permission to visit the dying child. When he said no, the frantic mother ran toward the nursery but was detained and sentenced to solitary confinement. Somehow, she managed a message to her husband, who came to Cascades and left with their child. He purchased medicine from a pharmacist, but by now little Thomas was at death's door and soon succ.u.mbed.

Little Thomas Vowles was just one of hundreds who suffered the same fate at the nursery. Word began to spread throughout Hobart Town that "the corpses of children had been conveyed secretly out of the Factory, without the slightest regard to ceremony."19 The The True Colonist True Colonist harshly criticized Superintendent Hutchinson's role in Thomas's demise, a.s.sailing him for an improper use of authority. Such heartlessness prompted Hobart Town's local newspaper to launch a crusade for change. On May 29, 1838, the harshly criticized Superintendent Hutchinson's role in Thomas's demise, a.s.sailing him for an improper use of authority. Such heartlessness prompted Hobart Town's local newspaper to launch a crusade for change. On May 29, 1838, the Colonial Times Colonial Times reported yet another death inside Cascades and called for the resignation of the superintendent's wife. reported yet another death inside Cascades and called for the resignation of the superintendent's wife.

"Where, again, was the matron, Mrs. Hutchinson, that she did not perceive the gradual decay and drooping of this innocent victim? Is it . . . because Mrs. Hutchinson is so habituated to misery and wretchedness, within the walls of that gloomy prison, that she does not recognize its continual existence? At all events, her removal is certainly requisite, immediately and promptly."20 The article went on to beg Governor John Franklin "to ORDER the immediate removal of the children, and not to stand upon any shillyshally remonstrance as to expense or inconvenience."21 Despite public outcry about "the perilous and fatal Nursery," the governor's wife, Lady Jane, largely ignored the dying babies. Despite public outcry about "the perilous and fatal Nursery," the governor's wife, Lady Jane, largely ignored the dying babies.22 Constructing a botanical garden, a state college, and a museum of natural history modeled after a Greek temple were the tasks she readily performed from an elite distance. Writing her sister during the time of the scandal, the governor's wife revealed her true feelings: "As for doing anything with the women here, in the factory, it seems next to impossible huddled as they all are together, and such impudent creatures, almost all of them. . . . I think the whole system of female transportation . . . so faulty and vicious, that to attempt to deal with the women who are the subjects of it, seems a waste of time and labor. Constructing a botanical garden, a state college, and a museum of natural history modeled after a Greek temple were the tasks she readily performed from an elite distance. Writing her sister during the time of the scandal, the governor's wife revealed her true feelings: "As for doing anything with the women here, in the factory, it seems next to impossible huddled as they all are together, and such impudent creatures, almost all of them. . . . I think the whole system of female transportation . . . so faulty and vicious, that to attempt to deal with the women who are the subjects of it, seems a waste of time and labor.23 In this instance, public sentiment held more influence over the governor than did his apathetic wife. After nine years of scandals involving infant deaths, he finally approved the closing of Cascades Nursery in October 1838, motivated by economics rather than altruism. The nursery was relocated to the small Liverpool Street house in Hobart Town. Mindful of both finances and public relations, the Hobart Town coroner had "recommended that a new hospital and nursery be built close to, but outside, the Factory, in order to avoid the necessity of holding an inquest on every death therein. This would minimize administrative expense and avoid 'excit[ing] . . . the Public Mind' through inquests being held on 'ordinary and unavoidable cases.'"24 According to an act of Parliament, inquests were required only for those who died inside a prison. According to an act of Parliament, inquests were required only for those who died inside a prison.

Nurse Tedder was about to enter the poorly ventilated little dwelling on Liverpool Street that now held Cascades' tiniest prisoners. It was no place for the faint of heart. Walking down the valley toward the center of town, Arabella held tight to her mother's new prison dress and followed Mrs. Cato's directions to behave herself. This was where proper people lived, and children should be seen and not heard. Strolling by the replicas of English gardens, the ladies of Hobart Town wore black lace dresses embellished with pearl b.u.t.tons, and white cambric collars and cuffs. Following fashion and imitating the coiffures of Parisians, they swept their hair off the face and styled it into soft curls.25 The town was built primarily on a straight grid, its long streets adorned by simple Georgian architecture. Behind the neatly trimmed Hawthorne hedges, private homes and government offices conveyed a gaol-like austerity, with squared bricks and severe edges. Lurking around the corner in the less tasteful side alleys, sly-grog shops enjoyed a booming business. Emancipists, as the freed convicts were known, congregated with sailors, bushrangers, madams, and corrupt government officers. For the most part, the town still tolerated an "anything goes" in a penal colony att.i.tude. Unlicensed pubs abounded, serving homemade liquor, sometimes dangerously laced with laudanum-the same drug used to quiet infants in Britain's slums.

Set amid bawdy houses, taverns, shops, and mansions, the Liverpool Nursery sat at the lower end of the street. Prisoners whose babies were not yet six months old were permitted to nurse their little ones. Some would later be a.s.signed to colonists as wet nurses. Though not nearly as damp as Cascades, the new location was equally crowded, chaotic, and malodorous. A doctor pa.s.sed through occasionally, but the prisoners themselves were a.s.signed responsibility for fragile babies and scrawny toddlers ranging in age from six months to two years.

Ludlow's hands-on medical training aboard the Hindostan Hindostan, alongside an excellent recommendation from the surgeon superintendent, immediately moved her into the nursery's top spot. Once again, a basic education and literacy led Ludlow to the best a.s.signment among undesirable alternatives. Yet nothing, absolutely nothing, could insulate Ludlow from the harsh and unantic.i.p.ated reality she was about to face. Back at Cascades for supper, Mrs. Hutchinson asked Widow Tedder to step into her reception room for a private conversation. The matron told Ludlow that there was no place at the Female Factory for Arabella. Her ten-year-old daughter would be transferred to the Queen's Orphanage in Hobart Town within a week.

Typically, mothers were given no warning about their children's removal. 26 26 But in this case, Mrs. Hutchinson needed a well-trained nurse on her side, and she could ill afford to alienate her. If Ludlow maintained her exemplary behavior, she'd be allowed to make the four-mile walk and visit Arabella once a month, on Sunday. Ludlow listened silently while her heart sank at the prospect of losing another child. Behind her hazel eyes, nearly covered by her mob cap, her mind raced madly ahead, plotting schemes for an escape. But in this case, Mrs. Hutchinson needed a well-trained nurse on her side, and she could ill afford to alienate her. If Ludlow maintained her exemplary behavior, she'd be allowed to make the four-mile walk and visit Arabella once a month, on Sunday. Ludlow listened silently while her heart sank at the prospect of losing another child. Behind her hazel eyes, nearly covered by her mob cap, her mind raced madly ahead, plotting schemes for an escape.

The next six days were a nightmare. The distraught mother decided to shield her darling little girl from the news of their imminent separation until the moment was upon them. Inside the Liverpool Nursery, there was hardly time to think. An overwhelming workload pulled Ludlow through the fear and dread that rose higher every hour. The Hindostan Hindostan had arrived during another outbreak of influenza in the colony. The illness, in particular, targeted the fragile children crammed into the Liverpool Nursery, housing more than fifty women and nearly one hundred children. Within a week, the new nurse witnessed her first death in Van Diemen's Land: Two-year-old Frederick Withely pa.s.sed away September 17, 1839. had arrived during another outbreak of influenza in the colony. The illness, in particular, targeted the fragile children crammed into the Liverpool Nursery, housing more than fifty women and nearly one hundred children. Within a week, the new nurse witnessed her first death in Van Diemen's Land: Two-year-old Frederick Withely pa.s.sed away September 17, 1839.

Awakening with a melancholy heart on the following morning, Ludlow lovingly stroked her daughter's grimy cheek, gravely aware of what was about to happen. Heavy footsteps echoed from the far gate toward the women's ward.

It was time to kiss Arabella good-bye. After rea.s.suring her brave child that she would visit whenever the rules permitted, Ludlow watched Mrs. Hutchinson lead her bewildered ten-year-old away. Only seven days after arriving in Van Diemen's Land, her youngest child was admitted to the Queen's Orphanage. Ludlow vowed to get her back, whatever the cost.

Children were separated from their mothers at Cascades for two reasons. First, it was surmised that if a prisoner spent time on parenting, it reduced her hours of productivity and therefore her economic value. Second, separating girls like Arabella from their mothers fell under Britain's master plan for a pure moral pedigree in the expanding colony. Under the guise of protecting children from "the convict stain," the government removed them from their mothers, hoping to prevent corruption of young souls in order to gain strong, healthy, and docile workers.

Children like Arabella were pressed into servitude as soon as they learned to sew a jacket or grew st.u.r.dy enough to carry bricks, usually by age thirteen or fourteen. From this day forward, Arabella would belong to the state until her mother received a Ticket of Leave, her pa.s.sport to freedom. Unlike Agnes McMillan, who had long pa.s.sed the age of innocence, Arabella was considered young enough to meet Victorian standards for a pure moral canvas.

Young Miss Tedder boarded the orphans' transport cart along with her good chum from the Hindostan Hindostan, eight-year-old Sarah Smith.27 The two pulled up another young friend, four-year-old Jane Price, and held her between them. Jane's mother, Ann, was confined to a cell on bread and water for insolence to her master, so the two didn't even get to say good-bye. Straining their necks for a last look at their mothers' prison, the three frightened playmates huddled together as the wheels of the cart began creaking away from the factory. The two pulled up another young friend, four-year-old Jane Price, and held her between them. Jane's mother, Ann, was confined to a cell on bread and water for insolence to her master, so the two didn't even get to say good-bye. Straining their necks for a last look at their mothers' prison, the three frightened playmates huddled together as the wheels of the cart began creaking away from the factory.

The light cargo jostled down the valley into Hobart Town and then north toward New Town. The tiny cart made steady progress along well-traveled Elizabeth Street, one of the main thoroughfares into the busy little port. Many wagons headed in the opposite direction were loaded with wood, wool, and other products bound for the warehouses by the docks. Several miles outside Hobart Town, the traffic thinned and the prison orphans pa.s.sed the few homes that const.i.tuted New Town's center. Soon a church revealed itself, centered in what appeared to be a large estate surrounded by fences stretching across the rolling hills. As the cart rattled toward the sternly squared stone spire marking the end of the road, it seemed as if the girls would roll right into what looked like a castle.

This was the gate of the Queen's Orphan School, housing youngsters whose parents were deceased or had abandoned them, along with a large contingent of children who had been transported with their mothers. Behind stone walls akin to the Cascades compound, more than four hundred children were fed and warehoused. The nearly even numbers of girls and boys were separated by St. John's parish church in the center of the complex.

The bricks for constructing the orphanage came from the hands of male convicts who labored at Port Arthur and harvested timber from Mt. Wellington. A staff of nine cared for the youngsters, aged two to fourteen.28 Arabella, Jane Price, and Sarah Smith would follow a routine that mirrored their mothers' at the Female Factory: up by five or six A.M., depending on sunrise; gruel and bread for breakfast; soup and brown bread for supper; in their hammocks by eight P.M. Arabella, Jane Price, and Sarah Smith would follow a routine that mirrored their mothers' at the Female Factory: up by five or six A.M., depending on sunrise; gruel and bread for breakfast; soup and brown bread for supper; in their hammocks by eight P.M.

Mrs. Gazzard, matron for the girls' ward, handed Arabella a uniform, reflecting the fact that the orphanage was run by the Convict Department. Like mother, like daughter. The telltale blue-and-white-patterned dress, sewn in coa.r.s.e fabric, marked her as the offspring of a convict. A clean white pinafore proclaimed her moral innocence and protected her dress from the ch.o.r.es and work training expected from all but the youngest inmates.

Matron Gazzard examined the young Tedder's hair for lice, then cut short the back of her locks and left the front intact. This odd haircut further branded Arabella the progeny of a sinner, thief, or prost.i.tute. Here, the rules at Cascades were mirrored. If Arabella turned sa.s.sy or disobeyed the matron, her tresses would be shorn off, just like those of an adult. Although Arabella and Sarah were old enough for the girls' ward, Jane Price was not. Separated from her temporary guardians, she was brought to the infant branch that housed the little ones, from two to six years old.

Clambering up the stairs to the second-floor dormitory, Mrs. Gazzard a.s.signed Arabella a hammock and handed her two blankets. The young prisoners of the Crown, considered contaminated children, slept in a large room lit by a single lantern hung from the rafters in the roof. Bedding from the orphanage was delivered to the Female Factory for washing in Yard Two, where the disobedient were punished. Once Ann Price was released from her cell, she probably scrubbed the sheets that carried the scent of her own child.

Arabella and the others her age would soon learn how to do laundry for themselves and master the art of knitting, needlework, and other domestic ch.o.r.es. Local settlers hired some of the fully trained girls as servants, kitchen maids, or nurse's a.s.sistants. In the plan to lift the convict stain, religious instruction was nearly as important as work apprenticeship. Protestant girls like Arabella attended mandatory morning prayers in the church before breakfast each day. In addition, on Wednesday and Friday mornings, the children divided into Protestant and Roman Catholic cla.s.ses and were taught separately. For the rest of the day, they sat for religious instruction and examination, rounded off by an evening church service for the Protestants, who represented the majority.29 Arabella's surroundings reflected her mother's life in the Female Factory, where everyone followed a rigid schedule. Each minute of her childhood was accounted for and monitored. The only exception was Sunday, after church, when the girls were allowed free time on the open playground. Still, even the strictest rules couldn't stop Arabella, Sarah, and her new mates from managing a bit of girlish fun and stirring up some occasional mischief without being caught.

Like their mothers, the girls at the Queen's Orphanage were deemed less reputable and harder to manage than the boys, demonstrating few of the qualities expected from a restrained and obedient Victorian young miss. In Mrs. Gazzard's judgment, most of her charges had "fallen into improper courses of life."30 For the newly streetwise Arabella, witness to her mother's mistakes, being caught at breaking rules was not an option. Wardens who ran the orphanages were attired in grey military-inspired uniforms and carried canes dangling from their fingers. Caning, solitary confinement, or cutting off of hair served as punishment in this prison for children. Fortunately, just a few years before Arabella's arrival, a scandal at the orphanage had cleaned out many staff who were "dismissed for misbehavior, cruelty and stealing provisions to sell for their own gains."31 The living conditions themselves inflicted physical punishment on the youngsters. The year Arabella entered the orphanage, the Colonial Times Colonial Times recorded the harsh existence characterizing her young life: "The washing places, or lavatories (to use a word more euphonious for the polite and learned ears of our court contemporary) are highly objectionable: they consist of cell-like rooms, paved with flags, with a stone trough in the center, open at both ends, and consequently, extremely cold and comfortless. Indeed, the prevalence of stone pavement, throughout the lower apartments of the building, is, in our humble opinion, highly detrimental to the health of the inmates; in one room, we saw five little fellows, blue and shivering with cold. . . ." recorded the harsh existence characterizing her young life: "The washing places, or lavatories (to use a word more euphonious for the polite and learned ears of our court contemporary) are highly objectionable: they consist of cell-like rooms, paved with flags, with a stone trough in the center, open at both ends, and consequently, extremely cold and comfortless. Indeed, the prevalence of stone pavement, throughout the lower apartments of the building, is, in our humble opinion, highly detrimental to the health of the inmates; in one room, we saw five little fellows, blue and shivering with cold. . . ."32 The emotional distance created by the prim and proper language of the Times Times reporter accurately reflected the sentiments of the day toward boys and girls of convict lineage. Because so few staff supervised so many children, the sick were often ignored or treated with callous disregard. With only one fireplace to stave off the cold in the oversized inst.i.tutional wards, the children often suffered from chilblains, a condition marked by inflamed fingers and toes and caused by the shivering dampness. A school inspector recorded what he saw: "On one occasion in my presence the master gave an order 'Sore hands and feet stand out.' This dismembered several cla.s.ses, particularly of the younger children. There were 36 with deep red hands or limping feet, formed a double line, and were marched out for the purpose of some remedial treatment." reporter accurately reflected the sentiments of the day toward boys and girls of convict lineage. Because so few staff supervised so many children, the sick were often ignored or treated with callous disregard. With only one fireplace to stave off the cold in the oversized inst.i.tutional wards, the children often suffered from chilblains, a condition marked by inflamed fingers and toes and caused by the shivering dampness. A school inspector recorded what he saw: "On one occasion in my presence the master gave an order 'Sore hands and feet stand out.' This dismembered several cla.s.ses, particularly of the younger children. There were 36 with deep red hands or limping feet, formed a double line, and were marched out for the purpose of some remedial treatment."33 Managed perhaps more kindly by Mrs. Gazzard since 1833, the orphanage began to hire women who were experienced as teachers. They instructed the children in reading primarily to support the government-mandated religious instruction. The mistresses, as they were called, also taught penmanship and basic arithmetic. Many decades later, the notes Arabella sent to her grandchildren on their birthdays bore the mark of well-practiced and well-learned cursive writing along with perfect spelling and grammar.

No birthdays were celebrated at the orphanage except Queen Victoria's, each year on May 24. On this one observed holiday of the year, coming as winter approached the Southern Hemisphere, "if the weather permits, the teachers take the children out on a day's ramble in the neighbouring country."34 Unheated cla.s.srooms, a playground without equipment and supervision, and the absence of parental attention and care made for an austere childhood, save for the friendships that flourished. Yet a bit of education and the regular, spartan meals were more than what these children's peers and relatives consumed back in the British slums. Unheated cla.s.srooms, a playground without equipment and supervision, and the absence of parental attention and care made for an austere childhood, save for the friendships that flourished. Yet a bit of education and the regular, spartan meals were more than what these children's peers and relatives consumed back in the British slums.

Two months after Arabella settled into her routine at the orphanage, another ten-year-old, Catherine Mullins, arrived at its stone entrance. Before long, they were true-blue mates. Together, over the next four and a half years, the girls would mature into optimistic young women, inspired by friendship and monthly visits from their mothers. Every evening, Arabella and Catherine sat down to a meal of soup made with meat and vegetables, "a large piece of coa.r.s.e, but sweet wheaten bread" and a cup of milk.35 Before a spoon was lifted, the roomful of children said grace out loud in near unison. Before a spoon was lifted, the roomful of children said grace out loud in near unison.

At about the same hour, Ludlow stared into her bowl of broth. Separated from Arabella, a listless #151 resisted swallowing the food she tried to eat. Although she had temporarily lost her youngest child, the Widow Tedder found some solace in devoting loving attention to the tiny babies under her care.

Despite her best efforts, calling upon both maternal instincts and nursing skills, seven more children died before the Christmas holiday. By January, the warm weather that arrived at summer's peak seemed to slow the spread of illness inside the house Ludlow shared with her young charges and their mothers. The Liverpool Street nursery seemed ever more distant from the Keppel Street quarters she had left just one year ago.

Arrivals and Departures.

For a year and a half, Ludlow toiled in the nursery alongside head midwife and deputy matron Elizabeth Cato. By now, Ludlow's Hindostan Hindostan friend Ann Price had completed her punishment in the wash yard and was also a.s.signed to Liverpool Street. At least once a month, and when they were granted extra visits for model behavior, together the two mothers walked the hilly four miles from Cascades to New Town for Sunday visits with their daughters. friend Ann Price had completed her punishment in the wash yard and was also a.s.signed to Liverpool Street. At least once a month, and when they were granted extra visits for model behavior, together the two mothers walked the hilly four miles from Cascades to New Town for Sunday visits with their daughters.

The women's routine changed abruptly on a foggy autumn morning in April 1841, when Mrs. Cato failed to appear at morning muster. Typically she met Ludlow and Ann immediately after breakfast and issued daily orders for nursery duty. The night before, however, Police Magistrate John Price arrested both of the Catos and charged them with trafficking. During the initial phase of his investigation, Mr. Price confronted the overseer and his wife with the news that he'd seen a letter written by a prisoner, Ellen Watkins, "in which she requests certain articles be sent under cover to Mrs. Cato for her, here accompanied by a fowl for the use of Mrs. Cato."36 When he requested the Catos turn over both the letter and the chicken, Mrs. Cato responded that "the contents of the letter was too horrible and indecent and that she had thought fit to burn it." When he requested the Catos turn over both the letter and the chicken, Mrs. Cato responded that "the contents of the letter was too horrible and indecent and that she had thought fit to burn it."37 Having read the letter himself, Magistrate Price countered her a.s.sertion, later noting in his report to Superintendent Josiah Spode: "I must here remark that not an indecent allusion was introduced into that letter." Having read the letter himself, Magistrate Price countered her a.s.sertion, later noting in his report to Superintendent Josiah Spode: "I must here remark that not an indecent allusion was introduced into that letter."38 But the excuses were quick and well prepared when Price inquired about the messenger bird. Yes, they were given the fowl for reasons unknown, and "it was a pity it should stink and so I had it plucked." But the excuses were quick and well prepared when Price inquired about the messenger bird. Yes, they were given the fowl for reasons unknown, and "it was a pity it should stink and so I had it plucked."39 The two senior officials had contrived a scheme wherein convicts were allowed messages from outside the prison if delivered to Mrs. Cato along with a chicken. It was just the tip of a pervasive and thriving underground economy at Cascades. This relatively small extortion delivered notes between the female prisoners and their paramours in Hobart Town, providing many chickens for the Catos. The overseers and the deputy matron either ate the fowl or traded them for other items available via the illicit marketplace.

For years, the local government ignored the corruption inside Cascades as well as the abuse of prisoners who were mismanaged and mistreated. Word of inhumane conditions reached England and prompted Elizabeth Fry to beg for intervention. Four long years pa.s.sed before Lady Jane responded to Mrs. Fry's impa.s.sioned plea for an investigation into conditions at the Female Factory. In July 1841, shortly after the Catos' indictment, Elizabeth's emissary Miss Kezia Hayter arrived on the Rajah Rajah and presented Lady Jane with a quilt made by the convict women aboard ship. An embroidered inscription on the fabric rendered it impossible to ignore Fry's mission: and presented Lady Jane with a quilt made by the convict women aboard ship. An embroidered inscription on the fabric rendered it impossible to ignore Fry's mission: TO THE LADIES.

of the Convict ship Committee This quilt worked by the Convicts of the ship Rajah during their voyage to Van Diemans [sic] Land is presented as a testimony of the grat.i.tude with which they remember their exertions for their welfare while in England and during their pa.s.sage and also as a proof that they have not neglected the Ladies kind admonitions of being industrious June 184140.

On August 3, 1841, Lady Jane penned a note to Fry, offering an excuse for failing to write sooner: "I had little to tell you respecting the conditions of the female prisoners population here, which . . . would give you any satisfaction to hear, and I shrank from the painful task of being the reporter of evil, and of confessing how little I had personally done. . . ."41 The word "evil" was applied liberally to descriptions of the girls and women exiled "beyond the seas." The Courier Courier announced the arrival of the announced the arrival of the Rajah Rajah in the paper's local news section with this warning: in the paper's local news section with this warning: The female prisoners brought out in this ship appear to be of much better character than usual; their behavior during the voyage was very good, doubtless in a great degree the result of the indefatigable care which appears to have been exercised both with reference to their morality and physical comfort. The Lieutenant-Governor most judiciously afforded every facility to the inhabitants who had applied for servants, to obtain them direct from the ship; this is a most desirable arrangement, for even an hour's contamination in that receptacle of wickedness, the Factory may prove of lasting evil to the unfortunate creatures who once enter it.42 Although the Catos were dismissed from Cascades for their transgressions, there was nowhere to send the increasingly rowdy members of the Flash Mob. The more they were punished, the more unruly and outrageous their rebellion. Five months before Ludlow's arrival, the infamous Ellen Scott was charged with "violently a.s.saulting Mr. Hutchinson with intent to kill or do him some bodily harm."43 The women at the factory realized they had nothing left to lose as their treatment worsened, and the Mob escalated from simple defiance into all-out war. The women at the factory realized they had nothing left to lose as their treatment worsened, and the Mob escalated from simple defiance into all-out war.

Among those involved in the May 6, 1839, riot was Ann Maloney, the Londoner who had left behind a penny for her loved one W. F., engraved with two hearts and two doves. Fourteen years into her life sentence for larceny in a boardinghouse, Ann turned bitter and ornery, her optimism long departed from the days she inscribed the love token inside Newgate Prison. A year after being admitted to Cascades, she attempted escape with a friend named Martha Griffith. While scaling the prison wall, Ann broke her leg, and the constable sentenced both girls to bread and water in solitary confinement. In 1829, Ann had married and was remanded to her husband's oversight for the remainder of her sentence, an escape clause for female convicts. But when the couple was caught running a brothel in Hobart Town, she was returned to Cascades and the company of her Flash Mob mates.

Malnourished, neglected, and increasingly angry women were packed tight behind the stone walls. Seething frustration toward hypocrites like the Reverend Bedford, controller and abuser of many, fueled the Mob's fury. Five others partic.i.p.ated in the insurrection directed toward the often-tired, paper-pushing superintendent. Each was charged with insubordination for "forcibly, violently and in a turbulent manner resisting Mr. Hutchinson and refusing to obey his lawful commands."44 He immediately sentenced Ann Maloney to twelve months at the washtubs and sent Ellen Scott to Launceston for two years' hard labor. He immediately sentenced Ann Maloney to twelve months at the washtubs and sent Ellen Scott to Launceston for two years' hard labor.

The Hobart Town newspapers printed in-depth stories about the Mob's escapades and included more details in the police report section. In an article about Ellen Scott and her conspirators, the Colonial Times Colonial Times wrote: wrote: We have appended to the t.i.tle of this article, the term "Flash Mob;" that this term is technical, is sufficiently obvious; but few of our readers,-few, indeed, of any who possess the ordinary attributes of human nature, can even conjecture the frightful abominations, which are practised by the women, who compose this mob. Of course, we cannot pollute our columns with the disgusting details, which have been conveyed to us; but we may, with propriety, call the notice of the proper Functionaries to a system of vice, immorality, and iniquity, which has tended, mainly, to render the majority of female a.s.signed servants, the annoying and untractable animals, that they are.45 Despite these declarations of condemnation, the Colonial Times Colonial Times filled many columns with tasty tidbits about the women so often deemed unworthy of its time and attention. Ellen Scott was not alone in providing fodder for gossipmongers. Whisperers were all about town in the shops, gardens, and pubs. filled many columns with tasty tidbits about the women so often deemed unworthy of its time and attention. Ellen Scott was not alone in providing fodder for gossipmongers. Whisperers were all about town in the shops, gardens, and pubs.

After the departure of the Female Factory's dark heroine, a new cast of colorful characters emerged more vibrant than ever from this theater of unimaginable horrors. Each player took an unspoken oath to torment her captors and stand by her sisters. Like Ellen Scott, Catherine Henrys reached legendary status inside Cascades and across Van Die-men's Land. Twenty-nine, with deep pockmarks across her face, she was transported from Ireland in 1836, the same year as Agnes. She quickly became a master of ingenious escapes, like tunneling her way out of solitary confinement with a sharpened spoon, and using tied blanket strips to scale the stone walls. Tall for her time at five feet, six inches, Catherine sported two tattoos on her right arm and was nicknamed "Jemmy the Rover." During one escapade in 1841, she put on men's trousers, tucked her hair under a boy's cap, and headed into the bush to work as a timber cutter. Before her return to the Female Factory she lived free for a year, chopping down trees with Samuel Dobbs, a freed convict whom she would later marry.46 The Flash Mob tended to attract the conspicuously rowdy, but someone literate like Ludlow Tedder would be highly prized for her skills. Her ability to write and deliver messages during her regular pilgrimage from Liverpool Street to Cascades undoubtedly a.s.sisted love affairs and contraband smuggling. Such a proper matron was ideal to convey colored scarves and gaudy jewelry for the rebels with a sense of humor and a cause at Cascades.

Ludlow quickly figured out the survival maze inside the prison and how things really worked for those on both sides of the walls. Her regular trek up and down the valley afforded plenty of time to hatch a plan for Arabella's return. For today, it was August 1841 and all of Ludlow's attention was focused on a lovely Scottish redhead and a new baby boy who had been born at the Female Factory. The mother was called Janet Houston, and she had named her son William.47

8.

The Yellow C The Valley of Sorrow.

Cradling little William Houston against her grey duffel shift and smiling with contentment, Janet watched her new son grow stronger by the day. It was the end of August 1841. The sun was setting later now, and soon the winds of spring would bring the island back to life. Outside, the temperature drifted toward the fifties, ending a mercifully mild winter. Certainly it was nothing like the freezing nights she'd spent on Goosedubbs Street with Agnes. Still, occasional Antarctic winds blasted and shook the windowpanes facing the front of Liverpool Street. For good measure, Janet sat right next to the warm kitchen stove. Nurse Tedder smiled and offered the new mother a large slice of bread and a cup of tea with sugar, making certain the breast-feeding mothers received their full share of the rations delivered from the cook at Cascades.

The month before, on July 22, Janet had turned twenty-two and on her birthday carried a present, kicking and turning within her swollen belly. She tried to hide her pregnancy, but when she approached full term, doubt no longer lingered about her condition. On August 2, a policeman delivered the winsome Scot to the Factory, "being advanced in pregnancy."1 Janet held her middle and ambled back to her cell after Reverend Bedford's evening rant. Above the yard, in the clear black sky, a full moon hung suspended. Janet held her middle and ambled back to her cell after Reverend Bedford's evening rant. Above the yard, in the clear black sky, a full moon hung suspended.

A few days later, the redheaded la.s.s went into labor and delivered her "currency lad," as the son of a convict was called. Currency lads and la.s.ses were so named because they were viewed as a product, unlike the "sterling" born to free settlers. As soon as the young mother was able to walk, she and her newborn were sent down the valley to Liverpool Street, where today she stared into the eyes of her little infant. Janet had been born the same year as Nurse Ludlow's dear departed daughter Frances, who pa.s.sed away at age seven and lay buried in a tiny plot a world away.

The motherly Mrs. Tedder immediately developed a deep affection for the soft-spoken new mother, with her enchanting Scottish brogue and rather wicked sense of humor. Ludlow felt both relieved and gratified to see an infant thrive, especially because she had seen so many perish. Since her first day in the nursery two years before, twenty-four children from Liverpool Street had been hastily laid to rest in St. David's Cemetery near the harbor.

Inside the tiny house where she worked six days a week and often Sundays, Widow Tedder learned many truths about the girls and women who were returned to the Female Factory for what Reverend Bedford proclaimed the sin of adultery. At this time, the adulterer label was attached to every unmarried convict mother, regardless of her circ.u.mstances. Many were the victims of rape by a master, a male servant, or a settler. Others carried the child of a lover or common-law husband. Reason mattered not. In the eyes of the Crown, they were all sinners relegated to the same punishment.

Superintendent of Convicts Josiah Spode argued for placing the prisoners in local homes, where, he surmised, the "proper" citizenry would provide role models "both in a moral point of view and in teaching them those useful habits of domestic life."2 For many among the transported women, a.s.signment to settlers yielded the opposite effect, rendering them angrier and more rebellious as their sentences unfolded. For many among the transported women, a.s.signment to settlers yielded the opposite effect, rendering them angrier and more rebellious as their sentences unfolded.

Most reports of abuse were promptly swept under the rug. Yet the abuse became so widespread that eventually the Crown reluctantly agreed to an Inquiry into Female Convict Prison Discipline, which commenced in 1841. The investigation revealed that recourse for s.e.xual a.s.sault was nearly impossible, though a few desperately sought justice after being attacked in their master's care. Grace Heinbury was twenty-six when she arrived in Van Diemen's Land on the convict ship Atwick Atwick, which anch.o.r.ed on January 24, 1838. The black-haired nursery maid with the dark hazel eyes reported rather matter-of-factly to the committee the horror that soon befell her. During one a.s.signment, she was raped by a man whose wife had unwittingly selected her for their servant. After she reported the attack to the authorities in Hobart Town, the police did nothing. Superintendent Hutchinson promptly a.s.signed her to another household, where she was again a.s.saulted, this time by several male servants. With no recourse via the police to end her abuse, Grace walked off the job. She was punished with six months' hard labor for leaving her a.s.signment, but accepted it as a fair trade.3 Absconding seemed a reasonable choice. Temporary refuge could usually be found in the safe houses and grog shops tucked into the back alleys and shady streets around Hobart Town. Absconding seemed a reasonable choice. Temporary refuge could usually be found in the safe houses and grog shops tucked into the back alleys and shady streets around Hobart Town.

In caring for the mothers and infants housed on Liverpool Street, Ludlow began to understand the terrible secrets kept by the figures she had first viewed in Yard One two years before. Young women confided in the well-spoken nurse with the soft hazel eyes, who reminded them of their mothers back in Britain. Even if a convict mother wanted to love the child conceived by rape from a master or a male servant, the Female Factory "Rules and Regulations" stifled this natural inclination at every opportunity. The unnatural separation of mother and child caused some to give up entirely, as they sank toward emotional numbness.

A disreputable master could commit the perfect crime with any female under his charge: There were no witnesses and virtually no one to believe the hysterical tale told by a convict maid. There was no way to win. If she ended up pregnant, she was charged an adulterer. Once weaned, her child was taken away and she began a sentence of hard labor in the Crime Cla.s.s. Police Magistrate John Price admitted that many masters were "totally unfit to be entrusted" with the indentured women "from a perfect disregard to the morality of their female servants."4 After her sixth return to Crime Cla.s.s for misconduct in 1840, Janet avoided attention until she was found pregnant and living with a free man, the suspected father of dear William. When she reported back to the factory on August 2, 1841, Janet knew the punishment she faced. Along with her newborn arrived a sentence of a year's hard labor, six months for "living in a state of adultery with a free man" and an additional six for "being advanced in pregnancy."

The colony's government absolved itself of responsibility for the rising number of unmarried mothers at the Female Factory by making it a crime to give birth to an illegitimate child. Superintendent of Convicts Josiah Spode believed "the regulation was 'the best check . . . of immorality' and that it would 'restrain the promiscuous intercourse of these depraved women.'"5 His reasoning backfired exponentially. As the number of female transports rose, so, too, did pregnancies among the women, most in their twenties and thirties. His reasoning backfired exponentially. As the number of female transports rose, so, too, did pregnancies among the women, most in their twenties and thirties.

In some cases, a colonist used the system to free a sweetheart from Cascades, requesting her a.s.signment and then setting up household together. Fathers wishing to marry the mother of their child were sometimes denied permission. The lieutenant governor was required to review all marriage requests from 1829 to 1857. If both parties couldn't prove they were legally single and not married to someone else, or failed to pay the exorbitant application fees, their request was denied.6 Female Factory Superintendent Hutchinson's approval was also required, according to the rules and regulations, which stated: "No Female will be allowed to marry from the 2d. or 3d. Cla.s.ses, nor, indeed, from the 1st., unless she can obtain a favourable certificate from the Princ.i.p.al Superintendent." Female Factory Superintendent Hutchinson's approval was also required, according to the rules and regulations, which stated: "No Female will be allowed to marry from the 2d. or 3d. Cla.s.ses, nor, indeed, from the 1st., unless she can obtain a favourable certificate from the Princ.i.p.al Superintendent."7 Adding insult to injury, the Reverend Bedford also held veto over betrothed couples. Fancying himself the moral magistrate for Hobart Town, Holy Willie refused to wed convicts who had been married to someone left behind in Britain. It made no difference that there was virtually no chance of ever seeing their first husbands again. Many spouses left behind were already remarried or cohabiting with another woman. Although some preachers applied common sense in such decisions, the ever-unyielding Bedford, himself a well-known adulterer, often refused to marry transported women and men who desired a fresh start.

If not wed to the child's mother, fathers in Van Diemen's Land bore neither blame nor responsibility. The Hobart Town coroner deplored "the fact that unmarried female convicts who became pregnant were punished 'whilst the Father of the child whether he be the Seducer, or paramour, is rarely if ever punished.'"8 Despite this double standard, Janet discovered a silver lining when she returned to the Female Factory and especially to Liverpool Street. Shortly after giving birth to baby William at the Cascades infirmary, a stern matron named Mrs. Slea ushered her down the valley to the lying-in room at the nursery. Pa.s.sing the tiny kitchen on the first floor, Janet spotted a familiar frame standing with her back turned and scrubbing a giant stack of pots. It was a sputtering Agnes, clanging the pans and silverware as the greying water sloshed over her feet and onto the floor. It was the last place Janet expected to see her friend.

Looking forward to the spring in 1841, Janet had much to celebrate. Only a few weeks old, William was already thriving in her loving arms. Kindly Mrs. Tedder offered her valuable guidance on caring for her newborn. Celebrating this happy event with her dear Agnes was b.l.o.o.d.y good luck indeed, especially because they hadn't seen each other for nearly three years.

The last time had been in summer's heat, shortly before Christmas 1838, when Agnes stood ankle-deep in water hunched over a stone washtub in Yard Two. Janet had returned to Cascades for her fifth offense, one fewer than the feisty Agnes. The slightly less rambunctious of the two, Janet was a.s.signed to the Reverend W. Orton after twice disobeying her first mistress. The incident started on November 4, when the reverend reported his convict maid absent without leave overnight. She got away with only a reprimand, but ten days later she again walked off the job. This time a constable found her in a "disorderly house," a rowdy tavern specializing in strong liquor, gambling, and prost.i.tution. This offense sent Janet back to the prison for a month, picking oak.u.m in solitary confinement.

For the first six days, Overseer Cato pa.s.sed only bread and water through the grates in her cell door. Upon completion of this latest discipline, Mr. Hutchinson a.s.signed Janet to a different settler. By now, it had become a bit of a game to return to Cascades from a dangerous or dreary placement as quickly as possible. Janet's next position lasted only six days.

Indifferent to the punishment awaiting her, Janet strutted back to the Female Factory that December 20, 1838, where an auspicious surprise awaited her. Agnes, too, had returned to the valley to serve two months at the washtubs for being absent without leave. The two celebrated Hogmanay together as they brought in the new year in 1839. Their reunion was bittersweet because each would be sent her separate way. It would be nearly three years before their paths crossed again, although each returned to the Female Factory at different times. Sent out on four more country a.s.signments, Agnes managed to run away from each. Her fate, however, took a turn for the better when, in 1840, Superintendent Hutchinson dispatched her to the most remote location he could find. While working in Oatlands, located in the middle of nowhere, the twenty-year-old met a dashing older man who captured her heart.

Her most recent spate of trouble involved insolence toward her master. The superintendent had run out of a.s.signment options for the indomitable #253, who was about to turn twenty-one. She'd been sent to work all over Van Diemen's Land, from Richmond fifteen miles north of Hobart Town to the remote Oatlands. Agnes always managed to run away from her master, no matter how distant or isolated the a.s.signment, so a frustrated Hutchinson returned the untamable Scot to a place he could monitor. His wife, as matron, was required to inspect the nursery every day.

Because Agnes had experience as a governess for Mr. Harvey, she was well suited to work at Liverpool Street, although most prisoners who weren't mothers considered it an undesirable a.s.signment. Babies wailed day and night, the stench of diarrhea and vomit invaded every corner, and mothers fought for private s.p.a.ce where there was none. The cramped little house was staffed primarily by convict mothers still nursing their infants. In addition to nursing their own child, they also cared for children separated from their mothers and housed in the nursery until transfer to the Queen's Orphanage at age two or three. Agnes's heavy responsibility inside Liverpool Street lightened considerably when she heard Janet's Scottish brogue echo through the front entryway.

The two mates, fully blossomed into womanhood, still found unadulterated joy in recounting the girlish escapades they'd shared. Agnes had picked up a completely new repertoire of rebellious tunes about the regrets and the dreams of a convict maid: I toil each day in greaf [sic] and pain And sleepless through the night remain My constant toils are unrepaid And wretched is the Convict Maid

Oh could I but once more be free I'd never again a captive be But I would seek some honest trade And never again be a Convict Maid9.

Sitting inside the Liverpool Street nursery, Agnes excitedly confided in the loyal chum she considered a sister. They'd managed to survive the first five years of their transport sentence, suffering neither the illnesses nor alcoholism afflicting so many at Cascades. Picking up exactly where they'd left off, the two mates laughed, cursed, and cried through the stories and adventures they hadn't been able to share. As Agnes took a turn cuddling William after her kitchen shift ended, they dared to dream about the promise of their freedom in 1843. Knowing instinctively that this might be their last time together, Agnes and Janet filled the present with recollections from their past. Together, they stayed out of trouble, or at least weren't caught by Mr. Hutchinson.

All went smoothly at Liverpool Street save the death of one toddler in September 1841. The climate remained relatively mild after a freak snowstorm on September 13. By October, spring unfolded its arms in earnest as the days grew longer and temperatures climbed into the sixties. Janet, William, and Agnes spent the next few months together under Ludlow's watchful eye. The two young women felt like girls again, and their exuberance lifted the spirits of everyone in the nursery. It was going to be a b.l.o.o.d.y good Christmas-and baby William's first. Agnes could sing the little lad a right fine version of "Auld Lang Syne." The weather was clear and a balmy seventy degrees for the Scots' Hogmanay toast in 1842. With pubs located around the corner from the nursery, spirits easily found their way into the dilapidated kitchen.

As they headed through the warm January summer, Janet could not hold back the dreadful future that lay ahead. Forced to wean William in early February, precisely six months from the day he was born, Janet at first refused to leave the nursery. With the onset of six months' hard labor for the crime of unwed pregnancy, she'd be allowed to visit her infant son only once a week. Ludlow tried t