A Sense of Justice

Chapter 4

4

The ensuing eighty-nine-day voyage to Fremantle included a brief stopover in Cape Town for reprovisioning. However, not all the initial passengers were accounted for when the Hougoumont eventually docked in Western Australia on 9th January 1868.

* * *

Life at sea as a convict had its advantages, the most telling being that of access to ozone-laden and clean fresh air. No longer forced to inhale the ever-pervasive sulphurous odour of mass humanity, all on board reveled in this natural luxury: often chilly but always invigorating.

The second most appreciated benefit was the conditional freedom which Captain Cozens afforded all prisoners; daily release from their below-deck confines, for two hours to exercise—weather permitting—and an opportunity to mingle with the free, unrestricted, paying passengers.

Ordinarily however, prisoners were only permitted to talk with their fellow prisoners, and only provided they gathered in groups of not more than four: armed guards vigorously enforced this. On a rotational basis, only thirty prisoners were ever simultaneously permitted on deck.

Initially, during reprieves from their cells, the prisoners remained shackled by hand and foot. However, over time, as their part of the bargain “not to misbehave” was demonstrated, their shackles were removed. The alternative, if even one prisoner caused either any anxiety, discomfort, or trouble to any free passenger, or committed any act which threatened the safe sailing of the Hougoumont, all privileges, to all prisoners would be immediately withdrawn.

Of course, life at sea for prisoners still had significant disadvantages. Being below-decks, in a shared, never motionless common enclosure was almost overwhelming... a predicament the overworked ship’s surgeon could do nothing to alleviate.

Privacy was always at a premium—particularly during rough weather while trying to balance on a bucket doing what comes naturally—exacerbated every prisoner’s suffering.

Food however, though adequate, lacked variety and fresh water was rationed from day one, its quantity diminishing rapidly in step with its diminishing quality.

Two other matters raised their ugly heads to cause considerable torment: one physical, the other mental.

The prisoners were suffering badly in the many hours of their confinement. Being on or near the equator meant relentless, cloying heat. Even when free to be on deck to capture whatever breeze was created by the Hougoumont’s passage, they all easily succumbed to sunburn, for shade was always scarce.

The second matter was an innate fear of the sea… a most unwelcome curse for some. By now, everyone on board had seen the huge grey forms that now escorted the Hougoumont. Only the most daring, or foolhardy, lingered long at the bulwark handrails when the wind picked up and the inevitable following swell caused the Hougoumont to pitch, or roll unpredictably.

* * *

During the period of equatorial passage, Brickie started to press his luck. He’d been warned of the consequences of misbehaving but persisted in irritating the free passengers with his derogatory comments, unwelcome hand gestures and sexually explicit innuendo. The prison guards initially turned a blind eye to these relatively minor infractions—some in fact being border-line humorous and attracted laughter, an always welcome pastime. But inevitably, Brickie’s misguided sense of importance, his innate need for dominance and smouldering lust came to a head.

Two young girls, one in her mid-teens, were happily engaged in an innocent game of tag. As they ran along the starboard deck Brickie suddenly thrust out one of his legs tripping the pursuing teenager, sending her sprawling along the deck.

In an extremely quick pounce for such a large man, Brickie launched himself upon the hapless girl. In an even quicker series of movements one hand easily held the girl down, while the other was under her frock attempting to remove her under draws.

What Brickie had not previously noticed was Harry, sitting on an empty water keg not four yards away while quietly reading an old newspaper.

Harry had not seen the thug’s initial tripping action, but looked up as soon as he heard the girl’s shocked gasp as she clattered hard onto the deck. Harry jumped up, quickly appraising the girl’s plight. In three fast determined steps, he delivered a vicious and well-placed kick into Brickie’s exposed ribs.

Stepping back, Harry watched with satisfaction as the oaf roared in pain while rolling off and away from the distraught girl.

The girl, though shocked and already sporting a few bruises, scrambled away on her hands and knees into the protective arms of a nearby woman who had witnessed everything… so far. Though the woman tried to comfort the child, it was a difficult task as the teenager was shaking uncontrollably, whimpering and sniffling pathetically.

Gradually Brickie stood, holding his ribs and wincing in pain. ‘Which one of you fuckin’ bastards did that?’ he bellowed and quickly followed that up with a nonsensical torrent of threatening abuse levelled at the gathering crowd.

‘Me, though unlike you, I’ll wager, I actually know both my parents,’ Harry taunted in a strangely controlled voice. ‘So what are you going to do about it? Bad enough that you hurt that poor girl, but to then attempt to molest and embarrass her in public… that’s beyond any measure of decency.’

The last word had barely left Harry’s lips when Brickie charged. There was no mistaking his rage; huge fists clenched tight as he ran, pig like eyes glaring, nostrils flaring and spittle dribbling from his mouth.

Brickie rapidly closed on Harry, but Harry was smarter and even quicker, his reflexes smooth and controlled. The thug attempted to deliver his first blow. But Harry side stepped, in the same motion grabbing Brickie by the collar of his shirt and the waistband of his trousers. With unexpected, surprising strength, Harry charged along the deck with his hapless, bewildered assailant doing everything possible not to over-balance.

Using the remarkable momentum that he’d built up, Harry suddenly released his struggling opponent, sending him flying head-long into the built-in section of the deck’s aft bulwark—hoping that the impending blow would either stun him, or knock him out. But things quickly deteriorated. The stern’s old woodwork smashed apart, no longer being capable of arresting Brickie’s impetus.

As Brickie disappeared overboard and into the ship’s wake, Harry realised immediately that the stupid oaf was in mortal danger. ‘What have I done? The poor bastard can’t swim, that’s obvious, and despite that knock to his head he’s also just realised where he is. Now the sod’s petrified... and panicking. I can’t just leave the dopey s**t to drown. I have to save him!’

Without another thought, Harry kicked off his boots then started ripping off his clothes, but as he was about to throw his breeches to one side, he suddenly, surprisingly found himself restrained in a vice like bear-hug.

‘Don’t be stupid Harry,’ demanded Patrick, his voice just loud enough for Harry to hear, but which he obviously did not immediately recognise. ‘There’s no saving him. Look. The Hougoumont’s increasing her distance from him with every second. Even if you could get to him and hold his head out of the water, you’d never be able to swim back to the ship: you’d both then drown. Besides, there’s no way the captain will attempt a recovery now.’

‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right,’ Harry gasped in equal parts of acceptance and grief as he tried to shrug off Patrick’s strong embrace. ‘Nevertheless, that’ll be a bloody cruel death. You do know he’s absolutely s**t-frightened of water… any water?’

In a calm but firm voice, Patrick said, ‘Yes, I do know that, Harry. But mate, right now, that’s the least of his worries. Look behind him; about twenty yards back.’

Unbeknown to the two observers, they couldn’t see the blood oozing from the cuts inflicted to Brickie’s head and neck. Regardless, it took Harry just a few heart beats to spot the three huge dorsal fins; all were closing on Brickie much quicker than the Hougoumont was increasing her distance from him.

Brickie’s demise—from falling overboard to disappearing into the ocean’s depths—was over in a less than two minutes.

Realising that he was no longer being restrained, Harry spun around to confront his temporary captor. ‘Oh... it’s you, Patrick. I didn’t expect you to intervene. But thanks, anyway. Well, I suppose that’s it then, I’m buggered, right? I’m gonna spend the rest of me bloody life in jail, that’s for sure. You blokes will be looking for someone to blame for this.’

But before Patrick could speak, another authoritative voice replied, ‘Not necessarily, son. Best you come with me and tell all. But first, please make yourself decent: get your breeches back on before you scare the wits out of most of these lovely ladies standing here. They are, after all, my best paying passengers.’

Despite the seriousness of the circumstances, the captain’s good humour brought a ripple of laughter from the onlookers. ‘And I want you to accompany us, Patrick; I’ll need your account of what happened here.’